Walking Wounded
by miashay
Summary: Sequel to 'Exit Strategy'. Negotiations with the government are going swimmingly, TC is growing by leaps and bounds, and the Breeding Cult is toast. Then Alec wakes up from his month long coma, and things get ugly real fast.
1. Back in the Fray

Walking Wounded

**Disclaimer: I claim no rights to Dark Angel, or any of the characters you find here.**

**Spoilers: Set one month after the events of Exit Strategy, which included spoilers for the entire series. **

For those just joining us, here's a quickie synopsis of Exit Strategy. (Though I strongly recommend reading the story itself.)

_Two weeks into the siege, Sketchy got a nosebleed, attributed to the toxins in TC. He, along with Logan and OC, decided to leave, or risk further exposure. Everyone and their mother got involved, including Alec, who just so happened to have a super secret exit strategy, Code Name "Operation Doggy Door", ready and waiting for such an occasion. Unfortunately, Alec had been suffering from mysterious seizures since being shot at Jam Pony, and really wasn't up for secret ops. He insisted on leading the entourage anyway, and then surprised everyone by rendezvousing with Special Agent Otto Gottlieb once outside TC. Alec and Otto admitted to buddying up weeks ago to conspire against White. After sending the ordinaries on their way and heading back to TC, Alec began hallucinating. He doubled back to take out Otto, who he believed to be in league with White. Meanwhile, Luke and Dix found the reason for Alec's seizures in his old Manticore file, and freaked out accordingly. Luke and Dalton left TC to track Alec down, via a GPS chip he was carrying. They reached him just as Alec was attacking Otto. Still hallucinating and delusional, Alec then shot Dalton, thinking he was White. From there the ordinaries fled, and Gem and Joshua carried an injured Dalton back to TC. While trying to access another outside entrance, Max, Mole, Luke and Alec were attacked by White, whom Alec antagonized to the point of almost being beaten to death. Right as he was preparing to shoot Alec, the Seattle PD showed up and killed White. The transgenics carried Alec back into TC, as his symptoms were rapidly degenerating. Luke explained that Manticore had outfitted Alec with an implant after the Berrisford mission. When triggered, it would release a toxin into Alec's blood stream that would slowly kill him, and for which there is no known cure. Alec knew about the implant and, knowing he was dying, purposefully staged the confrontation with White to create good press for the transgenics. He also built a relationship with Detective Clemente, and a reporter, Melissa Bycroft, who would run unbiased reports on the transgenics. Overwhelmed by the sudden downturn in Alec's illness, Max fled the infirmary for Command, where she had a confrontation with Mole. The story ended with the two sadly coming to terms with Alec's imminent death, when Colonel Lydecker made an appearance in TC, claiming to have the cure. _

**Chapter 1: Back in the Fray**

One month after White's attack on Alec, Sketchy got a nosebleed. It was his first since leaving Terminal City.

Of course, he wasn't dying from exposure to lethal toxins this time around. This nosebleed was the result of a fist to the face, just as God intended. He may even have deserved it. Not that he would ever tell Original Cindy that.

"Okay, I deserved that."

Or maybe he would.

"Damn right you did! You think you can drag your scraggly ass into _my home_, in the middle of the _damn night_, and interrupt _my sleep_, just to pitch me some crack pot scheme of yours?" Cindy asked, eyes fixed on his bloody face.

"Is this feeling like déjà vu to either of you?"

Sketchy watched as Cindy jumped back and scrambled for the edges of her robe. He hopped through the doorway into the apartment and headed into the small kitchen, Logan following behind him.

"Hey OC." Logan greeted Cindy quietly. Sketchy caught them hugging out of the corner of his eye as he turned away from the fridge, carrying a handful of ice and small towel.

"Hey now, why'd he get to cuddle, and I get the violent outbursts?" Sketchy asked, as he wiped the last remnants of blood away and held the wrapped ice to his face. Cindy advanced on him threateningly, while Logan shook his head in amusement.

"You better be glad that little love tap is all you got! You know Original Cindy don't suffer no fools, and this little stunt you're planning has fool written all over it."

"So, I take it you told her our plan?" Logan asked, still looking amused. Sketchy caught a small gasp in his throat, and watched as OC pivoted in Logan's direction, her lip curling in anger.

Though Logan had known both Sketchy and Original Cindy for several years now, their relationships had mostly revolved around one common denominator, Max. Then came the siege, and the flight from Terminal City and, well, you know what they say about bonding over shared trauma. Now, the three of them were building friendships of their own, independent of Max. But two years of shared history didn't translate into knowing someone, and Logan and Cindy still managed to get their wires crossed from time to time. Like now. Sketchy settled back against the fridge, and tried to hide a growing smirk behind his hand, still holding the ice.

"Our plan? You mean to tell me you two fools are working together on this?!"

Sketchy watched as the color slowly crept off Logan's face, could almost hear his mind scrambling for a suitable explanation. He managed one stuttered sigh before Cindy continued.

"'Rise and Shine, OC!' he says 'We're gonna sneak back into Terminal City!' Like the damn place isn't surrounded by half the city's police, and the National Guard! Like we can just walk past the barricade, easy as lying. "

"Now OC…" Logan tried to regain some control, causing Sketchy to emit a small, but audible, laugh. Cindy took a step back, so she could glare at the pair of them equally.

"Oh you laugh it up, boo. You forgetting the last time the three of us shacked up in TC? Ended with us fleeing for our lives?"

"A visit." Sketchy replied, sliding into the gap in OC's tirade, like a game of Double Dutch. "Just a visit. The barricade clears out in two days, and we figured our transgenic brethren could use a little moral support."

"I've been talking to Luke and Dix, I know they could use the help." Logan added. "And Melissa Bycroft is going into the city for a press exclusive tomorrow. I'm sure she'd like a few more familiar faces around."

Sketchy nodded his agreement, trying his best to look innocent and encouraging. He could tell OC's resistance was starting to crumble. Either that, or she was planning on which eye she wanted to blacken, to go with his tender nose.

"Fine," Cindy replied after several long moments, "and what does Max have to say about this little 'visit'?"

"Nothing," Logan answered, "as far as I know, she doesn't know anything about it."

"Mole cleared it." Sketchy added quickly. "And he said they're trying another treatment, so we could be there, for that…"

The three friends took a moment to avoid eye contact and shift uncomfortably at his mention of Alec. One month had passed and, even with Lydecker and his creepy government contacts, Alec slept. The doctors claimed the poison that had been released into his system was long gone, claimed they could find no reason for the coma he had fallen into. Nonetheless, they continued to pump his latent body with drugs, hoping for some response. Like hope would wake him up, make him well. Sketchy shuddered at the memory of Alec's seizing body, tried to picture him quiet and still. Unfortunately, that image was just as frightening. Then Cindy spoke, and snapped him from his reverie.

"What kind of plan are we talking about here?"

"No sneaking," Logan replied, looking from Cindy to Sketchy and back again, "we just won't be going through the main entrance."

"The sewers?" Cindy asked, mouth curling up slightly in disgust. Sketchy nodded.

"Agent Otto will help us to the entrance, then the big dog will take us from there."

Cindy's face softened, no doubt thinking of Joshua, just as Sketchy intended. He could see the moment they'd won her over, and wasn't surprised when she barked out orders to him and Logan to stay put while she changed out of her bedclothes for more sewer appropriate clothing. Logan met his eyes as she slid out of the room.

"Well, that wasn't as hard as I thought it would be."

Sketchy laughed, and reached out to tap the man on the back.

"Looks like it's back into the breach, my friend."

_So, here's the first chapter. I know it's a tiny one, but the rest will be longer. I'm planning on about one a week. Let me know what you think. _

_And a Happy Belated Birthday to XgreeneyedelfX. Thanks for the encouragement. _


	2. Sleeper

Walking Wounded

**Disclaimer: I claim no rights to Dark Angel, or any of the characters you find here.**

**Spoilers: Set one month after the events of Exit Strategy, which included spoilers for the entire series. **

_Just an FYI- this story will be dealing with some rather dark themes. I have it rated T for now, but reserve the right to change it at a later date. I'll try and give you a heads up for potentially sensitive subjects. You have been warned. _

_Also, if you haven't, I recommend reading my story 'In the Basement'. I may reference it once in a while, and it will give you an idea of what you're in for._

**Chapter 2: Sleeper**

He was dreaming again. Had to be. The tunnel walls around him were dark and glistening, slowly, slowly inching inwards. He reached out with one battered hand, slid it down the wall to the right of him. It came away tacky with drying blood. Definitely dreaming, then.

He turned around to look back the way he came, saw white walls and tile floors, wide and inviting. He mindlessly tapped at his thigh, looked down to find blood now smeared across his pant leg. His left leg. He fixed his eyes on one blinding tile some twenty feet ahead, polished clean and free from any mark or blemish, and slowly rose both hands into his line of sight. Fresh blood covered them, creeping between his fingers, pumping steadily from his wrists. He looked from one to the other with clinical detachment, tried to decide how much larger the puddle beneath him would need to grow before he could rest.

* * *

"Can he dream? Like this, I mean?"

Dalton asked, gesturing to the hospital bed in front of him where Alec laid unconscious. Not sleeping, never sleeping. It was an easy mistake to make. Coma patients didn't sleep. They were unresponsive, or insensible, but never, ever sleeping. At least that's what Dalton's research said on the subject. Brain matters were always complicated, scientific study subject to change, inconclusive. The uncertainty made him nervous, just like his current uncertainty, the one about dreaming. If Alec wasn't sleeping, did that mean Alec wasn't dreaming? And if Alec wasn't dreaming, where was he? Was he even there at all?

"There's a lot speculation on that subject." Doctor Shankar answered, grinding his musings to a halt, "Some patients claim to have had visions or dreams, others remembered no time passing at all between when they fell comatose, and waking."

"Inconclusive, then." Dalton replied, furrowing his brow. "Go figure."

Doctor Shankar laughed at this, though he failed to see the humor.

"Scientists are always making new discoveries, but the capabilities of the human body and mind remain, most of the time, mysterious."

"Even worse for transgenics, I suppose. All that DNA splicing."

She laughed again, and this time Dalton joined her. He imagined it would be equal parts exciting and frustrating as a doctor or scientist, to be confronted with an entirely new species. With all that genetic engineering, they'd be forced to start from scratch, wouldn't be able to depend on any research done on humans.

"Is that why you can't wake him up?" Dalton asked. "Because he's not human? If he was, if he was regular…"

"If Alec was entirely human, Dalton," she quickly interrupted, "he never would have survived the poison that implant released into his system."

Dalton watched her tilt her head in worry, waited for some words of reassurance to come pouring out, but Doctor Shankar just shook her head, and turned back to monitoring Alec's vitals.

"How is he? Medium fella? Still sleeping?" Joshua called out from the door of Alec's room.

Alec had spent the first week of his coma laid out on a stretcher in the infirmary, all of Terminal City on tenterhooks. Each day that passed with him still comatose felt like a kick in the chest. If there was ever any doubt, Alec became their living proof that transgenics couldn't bounce back from everything. It was Joshua who suggested they move him, not to secret him away, or toss him in some dark corner to be forgotten. He just wanted his friend to be comfortable, afraid the worn down gurney was hurting Alec's back.

"Not sleeping, Joshua. He's in a coma. He's…" Dalton looked up at his friend, saw confusion begin to paint his features. He shook his head. "Yeah Josh, he's still sleeping."

Joshua sat down on the opposite side of the bed from him, gave Doctor Shankar a friendly nod as he reached for Alec's nearest hand. He squeezed it gently, and then allowed it to rest in the cup of his own two, far larger, hands. Normally, Joshua would talk to Alec now; tell him about his day, about Mole's latest antics and Gem's newest adventures in motherhood. The bustling life in Terminal City provided countless stories to tell. Today, though, he just sat in silence for a moment, before flipping Alec's hand over and placing it back on the bed. He turned to address Dalton.

"Joshua has a mission today. You will watch over Alec while he sleeps?"

"Where are you going? When will you be back?" Dalton asked, more out of curiosity than anything. He had no intention of leaving Alec's side tonight, whether Joshua was there or not.

"Logan and Original Cindy and Sketchy are coming to Terminal City. Joshua must bring them back."

"Oh," Dalton glanced to Alec, "is that safe?"

Joshua clapped one hand down on his shoulder, a sign of comfort and affection.

"Joshua will be safe. No gun shots, no comas."

Dalton caught his breath for a moment, hand shifting involuntarily to rest on his stomach where Alec's bullet had torn through him. It was healed now, he was healed, but the scar hadn't yet faded and the pain. He remembered the pain. He remembered waking up sore and confused, only to see Alec's body arching impossibly on the stretcher beside him and blood; blood was splattered across Alec's lips and pouring from his nose and when he finally stopped moving, Dalton was sure that he was dead.

"Well, be careful." Doctor Shankar said to Joshua, though she was looking at him. She looked worried again.

"I'll stay," he forced out, "be safe."

Joshua nodded to them both and patted Alec's foot on his way out the door.

"I say it's true." Dalton muttered quietly, reaching for Alec's hand. "I say he's dreaming."

* * *

There was a voice he recognized now, soft and beloved. It whispered to him across the length of the ruined corridor, white tiles now muddied red. He strained his eyes to see past the stain, sought out the form that matched that voice, but even the words were beyond his reach. Just gentle, senseless babbling that flowed over him, with no source he was aware of.

"Rachel?" His voice sounded out, bounced off the tainted walls and fired back at him, like a physical thing. The babbling stopped at once, his shallow breathes the only noise, now that the echo of his own voice had petered out. He attempted to draw breath to try again, only to find his lungs unwilling to gather air. He felt his throat cease up, and his body brace for panic, but his mind was like a limpid pool. Standing in his own blood, two inches deep, unable to breath, with the hold on his sanity dwindling with each passing moment, he lost all use for fear. After all, he'd been here before.

* * *

"Well aren't you a sight for sore eyes, doggy dog!"

Original Cindy launched herself into Joshua's arms, the sight of her friend after a month apart making her giddy. Or maybe it was the lack of sleep and early morning hours.

"Joshua missed Original Cindy, too. TC is quiet without you."

Joshua gave her a quick spin before depositing her feet back on the ground and turning to slap a friendly hand on Logan and Sketchy's backs in greeting. Agent Gottlieb received only a short nod.

"Agent Otto coming with us to Terminal City?" Joshua asked.

"Not yet. I'll be escorting Miss Bycroft into the city for her visit later today." Agent Gottlieb replied.

"Well, you enjoy your trip through the main gates there, G-Man. You don't know what you're missing." Sketchy said, gesturing to the sewer tunnel behind them. Cindy wrinkled her nose at the unfortunate reminder that they were still in for miles of trekking underground before they reached TC. Then Sketchy and Joshua were heading into the tunnel entrance, and Agent Gottlieb was turning to address Logan.

"You'll call me if there are any problems?" the agent asked in hushed tones. He was fidgeting.

"Of course, Otto. We can hope for the best, but…" Logan trailed off. He was fidgeting, too. So it was Alec, then.

"Let's just hope for the best." Original Cindy watched as Agent Gottlieb took a moment to pull himself together before continuing. "I'll contact you before we head out. Clemente has coordinated our escort to the gates, and Mole is prepared to pick up from there."

"You nervous, Special Agent?" Cindy interrupted the two conferring men, and began shoving Logan gently in the direction of the sewers. "Cause anytime before the sun comes up is not the time for a pep talk, and we still gotta whole lotta walking to do."

For that, she actually won a small smirk.

"Forgive me, Miss McEachin." Agent Gottlieb replied, and damn if he wasn't flirting with her.

"It's Original Cindy, or nothing at all. Now you be on your way, Agent Gottlieb, and we'll be on ours."

The agent nodded, the smile still playing at his lips as he shook hands with Logan and headed back the way they came. Original Cindy started towards the sewer tunnel, with Logan trailing behind her, wearing a look of bemusement.

"Don't you worry sugar," she called back over her shoulder, "Original Cindy still loves the honeys." Logan barked out a laugh in response. They were still both snickering by the time they reached Sketchy and Joshua, standing inside the sewer entrance. Joshua spared them a glance, but kept talking.

"Joshua and Dalton stay with him at night, Doctor Shankar too, when she comes. Everyone else visits in the daytime; Mole and Gem, Luke and Dix…"

"No Max, then?" Logan broke in.

"Max stays in Command, stays busy."

"Too busy to visit her friend in a coma?" Sketchy asked, shaking his head.

"Max stays away because Max is afraid." Joshua replied, though he didn't look convinced. "Alec is so still and quiet, Alec is never quiet, never before. It reminds her of too many things. Of Manticore."

It was nothing Cindy hadn't heard before. Hell, she'd gotten the same speech straight from the horse's mouth weeks ago, but that didn't make it right. As much as she loved Max, she wasn't the only transgenic in OC's life anymore. Those weeks living in TC, Cindy had seen them all struggle, had seen the scars Manticore left on each of them. After the shoot out with White, and finding out about Alec's illness, she had hoped to see her sister start to push through the pain of her past. Instead, OC watched as Max shut down. She concentrated on the negotiations with the government, and on leading her people, but cut out the human connection. Alec was just the first casualty.

"That's enough of that, boo." Cindy said, as she walked deeper into the tunnel, "Let's get moving. I hear sunrise in Terminal City is something to see."

Sketchy scoffed behind her. "Yeah, I hear toxic waste turns the sky the prettiest colors."

The whole group laughed at that, though Original Cindy could see shadows still lurking in Joshua's eyes. She snuck in by his side, a tight fit in the narrow passage.

"You worried about your boy?"

"Alec sleeps. Sometimes the drugs make him shake, but then they try new drugs, and the shaking stops. Dalton is afraid that Alec is gone, but Doctor Shankar says he's just waiting."

"Well hot boy better get with the program and quick, cause Original Cindy ain't a patient woman." Cindy put a calming hand on Joshua's arm. "You just wait, doggie dog. You schedule me and Alec a little visit, and OC'll have him talking off your ear and batting those pretty lashes in no time."

* * *

His body felt hollowed out, no blood and no lungs. He pressed two hands together, felt slick skin; knew there was white bone beneath it. Not hollow, like a bird, no his bones earn their weight. He reached for his chest, dug his fingers into muscle, more skin, more bone. His hands settled on his face, found two eyes and full lips, nose, ears and hair. Minute by minute he traveled his body; finding no limb out of place but still, he felt empty.

His world was like a vacuum, no noise and no light. The hallway was gone, the ruined tiles scrubbed away. Her voice was less than a memory.

They'll try to break him now, they'll make him scream and bleed and beg. Try to take him apart in pieces, then document and classify each one. But he's been here before, and his body is hollow and his mind is locked away. Gone.

Alec woke up.

_Thanks to those of you who commented. I really appreciate the encouragement, and your opinions mean a lot to me. _

_That said, are there any POVs you would like to hear from? The next chapter will probably focus on Max and Mole, but I'm pretty flexible about future chapters. _

_Please let me know what you think, and thanks for reading. Keep those comments coming!_


	3. Detente

Walking Wounded

**Disclaimer: I claim no rights to Dark Angel, or any of the characters you find here.**

**Spoilers: Set one month after the events of Exit Strategy, which included spoilers for the entire series. **

**Chapter 3: Détente**

_Mole and Max aren't exactly buddies these days, but they aren't exactly enemies, either._

The sun had just risen over Terminal City when Mole got the call.

He motioned to Luke across Command, mouthed _'Alec awake',_ so exaggerated and pronounced that every transgenic in viewing distance seemed to get the point_. _The anomaly's eyes widened, and Mole watched him glance frantically from side to side, as if expecting the man himself to come charging into the room. Mole wanted to smile, to whoop his relief into the dead quiet that now enveloped Command, but the doctor was waiting, and Alec was awake, but who knew what that might mean. He steadied himself, thankful that the early morning hour meant for a small audience, and waited for Luke to rush to his side. Then he spoke into the receiver settled on the desk in front of them.

"Luke's here doc, now tell us about the boy."

"He's responsive," Doctor Shankar replied, her voice calm and steady over the two-way radio, "but not lucid. He's reacting to physical stimuli, but his awareness..."

"And human interaction? Has he spoken?" Luke asked. Mole noticed him visibly shaking, with excitement or nerves, he couldn't tell.

"Not exactly," the doctor answered, "He's talking, but…"

"It's Kazakh! I think its Kazakh!" Mole heard Dalton call out.

"Right," Doctor Shankar concluded, "he hasn't responded in English. So far, I've caught some French, Russian and, what Dalton tells me, is Kazakh."

Mole shook his head. "Figures the boy would be difficult. And just what is he saying in French, Russian and Kazakh?"

It was Dalton who answered, his young voice uneasy over the line. "His rank and serial number, from what I can tell. It's…like he's a prisoner of war."

Mole swore softly as his eyes caught Luke's over the console. They'd been expecting this.

Alec had had it hard at Manticore; spent a lot of time in psy ops, and taken more than one turn at reindoctrination. Since applied ethics weren't exactly high priority in the government compound, there was no telling what those crackpot scientists had put him through. And while all of the transgenics had been trained on what to do under enemy capture, Alec's conditioning was undoubtedly more aggressive than his counterparts. It was no surprise to hear that it had kicked in, what with the circumstances surrounding his coma and all. Now the boy was reacting just as he'd been taught: practicing basic evasive techniques, avoiding direct communication, and following the military code of conduct. It was a reflex, nothing more.

Mole buried the niggling worry growing in the back of his mind. He did a quick scan of the eavesdroppers, found Gem staring at him unabashedly not ten feet away. He waved her over, and returned his attention to Dalton and Doctor Shankar.

"Luke and Gem are on their way." He said, gesturing for them to head out, "Do your best to keep him calm, and they'll try to snap him out of it. And radio back with any new developments."

Mole watched the pair scurry off in the direction of Alec's room. He waited for their retreating backs to disappear down the hall before leaning heavily on the desk in front of him, and placing his head in his hands.

"Shankar?"

"Yes Mole, I'm still on the line. Dalton's in the hall, waiting for the reinforcements." The doctor replied, and damned if she wasn't a mind reader.

"He told me, Alec told me, that he's been like this before. At Manticore."

"I don't understand. I've read through his files."

Mole paused to shift his weight, leaned into the receiver and spoke softly in reply. "Let's just say there were some things even Manticore wanted kept under wraps. Just…is he restrained?"

"The man just woke up from a month long coma…"

"Make sure he's restrained," Mole interrupted, "and if Luke can't do any good, you let me know."

"Mole, we'll do everything we can for him."

"Yeah, I know doc. If I wasn't about to get invaded by that damned reporter and the Fed…"

"I'll call if we need anything." Doctor Shankar said in her best doctor's voice, confident and soothing at the same time. Mole gave his thanks before signing off. He lifted his head, saw most of the transgenics had given up their snooping and returned to milling about. All except Max, who was standing stock still in her office doorway.

"Well, son of a bitch," he muttered, "this is just what I need."

* * *

As soon as she saw Mole headed her way, Max spun on her heel and retreated back into her office. She contemplated shutting the door behind her, but figured that small deterrent would do more to annoy the anomaly, than actually stop him from coming in to talk to her. If Max had learned anything in the past month, it was that Mole had no tolerance for her mile-wide stubborn streak, or her penchant for avoidance.

She took a breath, and focused her energy on blocking out everything she had just heard- damn transgenic hearing- and concentrated on how she could derail any Alec-centered conversation Mole would try to instigate. She hadn't gotten far by the time he entered her office.

"Well, I take it you heard all that?" he asked, his rugged face free of expression.

"Lydecker called to check in," she blurted out, just managing to rein in the desperation coloring her voice. "He's headed back from DC, and should be in this afternoon."

"Lydecker." Mole's voice was dry and disbelieving. "You wanna talk about Lydecker?"

Max ducked her head, fussed with some papers on her desk. "We've got a shipment of toiletries coming in this morning, and we're about to host a member of the press and a federal agent this afternoon. Our plates are full enough without…he's one transgenic, Mole. I'm glad he's awake, I am but, today, we've got bigger problems."

"All right girly, don't get your panties in a wad. Just know," Mole paused, and waited until Max made eye contact, "once this gets around, people are gonna wanna know what's happening with the boy. It's still early now, but we hit a more reasonable hour, the news is gonna spread like wildfire."

Max took another deep breath. "Well then, I'll be sure to send them to you."

Mole sighed, and reached into his front pocket for a cigar. Once he had one securely set in the corner of his mouth, he spoke.

"If that's the way you wanna play it, but there's something else you should know. I called in some reinforcements to help deal with Gottlieb and Missy Bycroft."

"Reinforcements?" Max repeated. As far as she knew, Terminal City had no reinforcements.

"The ordinaries," Mole answered, "Cale, Original Cindy, and that chatty wanna-be reporter. Josh headed out to take 'em through the sewer tunnel a few hours ago. They should be here any minute now."

Max rocked back in her chair in shock. As if dealing with the Alec situation wasn't uncomfortable enough.

It'd been two weeks since her blowout with Original Cindy. The fight started harmlessly enough; OC had asked her for an update on Alec's condition, and Max hadn't known. Cindy said she was dodging. When Max tried to blame it on trauma, on Manticore, Cindy called her a coward. They hadn't spoken since.

It wasn't that Max didn't care about Alec, she did. And she had visited Alec, once, since he fell into his coma. It'd been around 3 o'clock in the morning that first week, with a sleeping Dalton as her only witness. Once had been enough. She never went back, never asked for updates on his condition, just wiped all thought of Alec and sickness from her mind. Terminal City needed a leader, someone strong and uncompromising. She couldn't afford to be buried in grief.

Of course, Mole knew all this. It was one of the conditions of their relationship after the attack. The way he had explained it, despite their mutual animosity, as long of they were running TC together, they'd have to be able to communicate. He'd suggested full disclosure. According to him, that included their positions with any potential allies, ordinaries included. Mole called it a détente. Max was pretty sure he was misusing the term.

"So, why is this the first I'm hearing about this?" she asked, trying to contain the annoyance in her voice. There was no sense in antagonizing Mole, at least today.

"Figured you didn't need to know. Unless there's some reason you'd have a problem with getting a few visitors?"

"No problem, Mole," Max replied through gritted teeth, "no problem at all."

"So," Mole drawled out, "old Deck is headed out this afternoon, then? Guess he'll be interested in the boy, at least. Think we should call and give him the old heads up?"

"No," Max answered quickly, "Let's not give him any reasons to get back here sooner than he was already planning on."

"Not to mention, we still don't know how Alec will react to him." Max watched a small shiver go up Mole's spine. She had a brief flash of Alec, violent and crazed, the day he fought with White. "Tell you the truth, I'm not looking forward to finding out."

The uncomfortable silence that followed was quickly interrupted by a light knock on the door.

It was Dix. Joshua had radioed in; the ordinaries were back in Terminal City, and headed to Command.

_So, this made for a bit of an awkward chapter, but I promise, the action is coming. First, we'll meet Melissa Bycroft, and get some more from the ordinaries._

_Thank you for your reviews. Let me know what you like and don't, particularly characterization. Thanks again for reading! _


	4. Hurry Up and Wait

Walking Wounded

**Disclaimer: I claim no rights to Dark Angel, or any of the characters you find here.**

**Spoilers: Set one month after the events of Exit Strategy, which included spoilers for the entire series. **

**Chapter 4: Hurry Up and Wait**

By the time their small caravan came tumbling out of the sewers, dawn had broken. The sun was now visible just over the horizon and slowly inching upwards, the sky awash with brilliant color, just as Sketchy had promised. Logan allowed his eyes to adjust to the light as he took in the vivid blues and oranges overhead.

He loved this time of the morning, loved the cool calm and serenity of daybreak. The streets were mostly empty; he imagined most of the city was still tucked in their beds. It was a testament to how far they'd come, that after a lifetime of predawn wake up calls for PT or weapons drills, the transgenics had fully embraced this one piece of their freedom, the freedom to sleep in. Logan felt a strong rush of fondness for the residents of Terminal City.

"You're smiling." Joshua stated simply, his head tilted upward.

"Yes." Logan replied. "It's good to be back."

The two men walked side by side, Original Cindy and Sketchy following behind them.

"How is she?" Logan asked. He kept his face to the sky.

"Sad, scared, but strong. Always strong." Joshua replied. He sounded weary.

"Well, that certainly sounds like Max." Logan kept his own voice mild, and free of inflection. He saw Joshua shaking his head from out of the corner of his eye.

"Max wants to be strong for everyone, and everything is moving so fast. She misses you, though." He added.

Logan didn't try to challenge the validity of that statement, though he hadn't spoken to Max for nearly two weeks. It'd taken him half that time to catch on, to realize that she was actively avoiding him. Not that he had to ask why.

"And Alec?"

"Max thinks Alec is never waking up, so she stopped being strong for him. Little fella like's to pretend he's already gone, thinks it's easier that way."

Logan tilted his head, considering. He thought Max had grown past her proclivity for denial; that she was finally healing from the emotional scars her years at Manticore had left behind. He was wrong. And Alec wasn't the only possible landmine in Terminal City.

"How is she handling Lydecker?"

"Lydecker doesn't belong here, not with Alec, and not with Max." Joshua growled. After a few moments of tense silence, he finally lowered his eyes, effectively ending their conversation. He reached for the walkie-talkie clipped to his waist, and spoke slowly into the receiver.

"Dix? Are you there? Over?"

"Joshua," Dix answered immediately, "I take it you've returned safely?"

"Yes. We're back in Terminal City. Coming to Command." Joshua hesitated. "Now. Over."

"Joshua," Dix's voice wavered over the line, the hesitation unlike him. Logan unconsciously leaned closer to Joshua, waiting. "Hurry. Just, hurry."

The stuttered words spurred both men into action. By the time Joshua had signed off, they were jogging towards Command, leaving an undoubtedly confused OC and Sketchy in their wake. Logan cursed his heavy exoskeleton, as Joshua quickly outran him. By the time he reached Command, he was breathing heavily, and his back and legs were aching.

Joshua was standing with Dix and Mole near the main console, the look on his expressive face somewhere between joy and confusion. Logan approached the group warily.

"What's happened? What's wrong?" he asked, between heaving breaths.

Dix and Mole exchanged a glance, Dix's eyes momentarily straying to Max's office door. Mole cleared his throat, and shifted his cigar to the other side of his mouth before he spoke.

"She knows, though I wouldn't be expecting her to do anything about it."

"Knows what?" Sketchy asked, jogging up to Logan's side.

"Alec's awake. Luke and Gem are with him now, along with Doctor Shankar and Dalton, of course." Logan started to interrupt, but Mole barreled ahead. "He's not himself. Apparently the boy's muttering in three different languages, and English ain't one of them."

"Could be post traumatic stress, or brain damage. How are his reactions? Is he nauseous, or slurring his speech?" Logan asked. His mind was racing, trying to recall long lists of symptoms and warning signs. He wasn't a doctor, but after witnessing Alec's rapid decline, Logan had started researching on his free time. He wanted to be ready, couldn't stand the thought of being caught off guard.

It was a part of him, this need for control. With the circumstances so far out of his grasp, he could only handle his own responses, the extent of his knowledge. Over preparedness was the only thing that quelled his anxiety.

"You want to know so much about the boy, I suggest you head on down to see him. We've got company coming, and I don't have time to hold his hand." Mole replied, though by his tone, Logan figured he wanted nothing more than to do just that. By the time Logan turned to leave, Joshua was already heading out of Command, Original Cindy in tow. Before he had a chance to follow, Mole was calling out to him.

"Hold it there, Cale," the anomaly sighed deeply, "chance we might need you hanging around for a while yet, at least until our guests arrive."

Logan sent a fleeting look in the direction OC and Joshua had just taken, before turning to face Mole fully. He saw Sketchy whispering with Dix by the main console just over Mole's left shoulder, and Max's door still shut, just over his right. He met Mole's impatient stare, and saw stress and worry lurking there.

Logan threw back his shoulders and straightened his spine, affecting his best 'at attention' pose, "Consider me present and reporting for duty."

A tentative smirk pulled at Mole's lips.

"Well then, let's get to work."

* * *

X5-494 awoke in a small room. It was approximately 90 square feet in size. There were no windows, and only one possible exit. The room contained: the bed he was lying on, two metal chairs, a small metal cabinet (outfitted with a combination lock with key override), a stainless steel instrument tray full of assorted medical equipment, and the IV stand he was currently attached to. He had leather restraints applied to his waist, arms and legs, which he tested in detail, discreetly. He found no points of weakness. He seemed to be recuperating from a major injury, his reflexes were sluggish and his body throbbed dully, but he was rapidly regaining his strength.

There were four unknowns in the room with him: one civilian, who identified herself as Doctor Beverly Shankar, two X5, possible X6s (one male, approximately 16 years of age, one female, approximately 19 years of age) and a transhuman, an anomaly, a freak, broken out of the basement and edging closer and closer to his bedside.

The room was thrown abruptly into silence. 494 realized he had been speaking, reciting his rank and serial number, just as he'd been taught to. This insight left him uneasy. He trained his eyes on the ceiling overhead, locked away all thoughts of cold, dark rooms and blood filled hallways. He thought only of escape. He tried to create a mental inventory of the instruments strewn on the tray beside him. He thought of possible weapons and possible weaknesses. He filed away every word the unknowns spoke, searching for clues to his injury and imprisonment. They claimed to be his friends, claimed they cared for him, and wanted to see him well.

X5-494 kept his gaze vacant and his limbs still, and prepared to bide his time.

* * *

The walk to Alec's room was quiet and quick. Once or twice, Joshua snuck a glance at Original Cindy, caught her watching him with her mouth half open, ready to speak. She didn't, and Joshua was glad for that. Not that he wanted to avoid his friend. The weeks since OC left Terminal City had been long and busy, and Joshua missed her, along with Logan and Sketchy.

Everything was falling into place; the transgenics were fighting for their freedom, and winning, but the price was so high. Many had died, and many of the living were still lost. Like Max, so proud and strong outside Terminal City's gates, with Jam Pony and Crash, a family of friends to support her and anonymity she treasured. Since the siege, the life she yearned for, that small home she'd spent the last ten years carving out of the world, had been lost forever. But she would never mourn it; her whole heart belonged to Terminal City now. There was no more room for old dreams, just like there was no more room for Alec. Max was falling backwards, losing her spark. Joshua could see it dying everyday, and she wasn't not the only one.

Dalton was restless, worried and furious all at once. The warring emotions were building inside him; Joshua saw it as Dalton watched over Alec. From one moment to the next, his face was anxious and concerned, then angry and betrayed. Dalton hated Alec for hurting him, Joshua had guessed as much. But Alec was his brother, would have sacrificed his life to make the world safer for all the transgenics. Joshua would watch as Dalton remembered this, would see the young transgenic stricken with guilt, another face for him to wear.

The whole world was changing, but Manticore remained. It was the burden each transgenic carried with them. It made them paranoid and distrustful, left them longing for hope, but not willing to grasp it.

Yes, Joshua had missed Original Cindy, missed her optimism and faith. He turned to tell her so, and found them standing at Alec's door.

"You alright there, doggy dog?" Cindy asked, her voice soft and kind. Joshua reached out to her with both arms, and pulled her into a strong embrace.

"I'm glad you're here, Original Cindy."

Joshua saw Cindy's eyes turn misty at his sudden proclamation. He patted the side of her head gently before he released her, then turned and opened the door.

The room was very quiet when they stepped inside. Gem and Dalton were standing by Alec's bed, backs straight and eyes alert, like two sentinels carved out of stone. Doctor Shankar was shining a light in Alec's eyes and taking his pulse. Joshua dragged a metal chair from across the room to sit beside him. He noticed Luke pressed against the wall by the doorway, looking surprised, and ashamed.

"It was me." Luke stated dully. "He was talking when we came in…"

"Gibberish," Doctor Shankar interrupted, as she placed her small penlight in the pocket of her lab coat, and started to adjust Alec's IV, "he was talking gibberish."

"But he was talking, he was responsive, and taking stock of his surroundings. Then he saw me and," Luke gestured to Alec's vacant expression, "this happened."

Joshua wanted to tell Luke that it wasn't his fault, but his words wouldn't come. Original Cindy spoke for him.

"This wasn't you, Luke. You wanna know why hot boy here checked out, smart money says it's something to do with Manticore."

"The basement," Joshua said, "Alec was there; he told me. When he wasn't with Psy Ops."

He was surprised to see Doctor Shankar nodding her head in agreement.

"Mole told me this had happened before," she explained, "and Alec's file said he was reindoctrinated. Based on what Mole said, and what I know about Manticore, I assume he was put through rigorous torture and brainwashing techniques. If he was kept in this 'basement' in between sessions, any reminder could have triggered this kind of response. It's most likely his injuries have caused him to re-experience the trauma he suffered at Manticore. In fact, I'd say it's the cause of his entire catatonic state."

"Of course it is!" Dalton spat out, springing away from his place by Alec's side. "It's always Manticore! They're the ones that gave him the implant, the ones who poisoned him! He's free now, and they're still killing him!"

"Dalton!" Gem called out to the young transgenic as he tore out of the room and down the hallway. She moved to follow him, but Original Cindy held out a hand to stop her.

"Give the boy some time to chill out. Been sittin' in this room for too long, its got him all spun around."

"OC is right," Joshua added, "Dalton needs to chill out, get away. We'll go after him later, I promise."

"All right." Gem said. She looked out into the hallway for a second more, and then faced Doctor Shankar. "When will Alec snap out of it? What can we do?"

"For now, nothing." Doctor Shankar replied. "For now, we wait."

* * *

"If I had known this is what you wanted me for, I'd be visiting Alec right now." Logan said.

He was standing in front of the main entrance to Terminal City, along with Mole and two X5s, whose names he didn't know. A light mist of rain was spraying down on them, a harbinger of the storm ahead, if the darkening skies were any indication. They'd been standing there for over a half an hour already, and he was growing impatient.

"Hey, you're the one who offered to help." Mole replied.

"How is standing in the rain with an armed escort helping?"

If the lizard man had eyebrows, they would have been raised, and possibly narrowed at that. As it was, he merely scrunched up his forehead and narrowed his eyes.

"Stop yer whining, Cale. Don't you want to give the Special Agent and Miss Bycroft a nice, warm welcome?"

Logan laughed, and visibly rolled his eyes at the transhuman.

"Last time I checked, Otto and Melissa weren't heading out for another three hours." Logan said, pausing to check his watch.

"Timetable's changed. Want to get them safe and settled before Lydecker gets back."

"Lydecker?"

"Yep," Mole bobbed his head in affirmation, "your sweetheart sprung the news on me this morning."

Logan fought to keep his lip from curling. Despite their recent history, he didn't trust Donald Lydecker. Not around Max, or any of the other transgenics. He swung the subject back to Otto and Melissa Bycroft's arrival.

"So, what's this new timetable look like?"

Mole snorted at the question, and gestured to Logan's watch.

"Gave the G Man a two hour window, that started about ten minutes ago." He reached out and slapped Logan on the back. "I suggest you get comfortable; this could take a while."

_Sorry for the delay- work and the holiday season have been keeping my occupied. _

_Thanks to those of you who reviewed. Please, keep it up. The reviews I get, the motivated I am, the quicker I write. Please let me know if you have any questions or suggestions. I'll try to get the next chapter finished soon._


	5. Live from No Man's Land

Walking Wounded

**Disclaimer: I claim no rights to Dark Angel, or any of the characters you find here.**

**Spoilers: Set one month after the events of Exit Strategy, which included spoilers for the entire series. **

**Chapter 5: Live from No Man's Land**

The ordinary stood silent in the rain for a full fifteen minutes before finally opening his mouth. Mole harrumphed when the man spoke. It'd been less than an hour since they left Command, and damned if he didn't owe Dix twenty bucks.

"Alright Mole, you want to tell me why we're waiting out here? Not that I don't appreciate the bonding time, but Otto could have called us once they reached the barricade."

The transhuman narrowed his eyes.

"You really need me to answer that? Come on, Cale. You're pretty sharp, for a human. Surely you can figure it out."

Logan raised an eyebrow back at him. "Humor me."

There was a trace of amusement trailing through the man's wry tone, like no answer Mole gave could be any more ridiculous than their current circumstances. Maybe he had overestimated Logan's intelligence, after all.

"Got supplies coming in this morning; toiletries. Your little lady friend's in charge of inventory and distribution; said she needed her space."

He watched the expression on the ordinary's face run a wide gamut of emotions, before settling somewhere between exasperation and annoyance.

"You're telling me there are four of us, standing out here in the pouring rain, all so Max can avoid seeing me? That's really what's happening here?"

"Escape and evade, the 09er specialty. Don't take it personal, Cale. If your girl didn't want you here at all, she'd have had you tossed out, ass over elbows, by now. The lying and subterfuge means she cares."

"Right," the man snorted, rain dripping over the rims of his glasses, "remind me of that when I catch pneumonia."

"Forget pneumonia, you just better hope those magic legs you're sporting are rustproof."

A sudden clap of thunder followed Mole's reply, and drowned out Logan's responding laughter. The storm was picking up.

While Mole's transgenic constitution protected him from most illnesses, he was still a desert unit, built for a warm, dry climate. He was as miserable sitting out in the rain as the ordinary. A flash of lightening split the sky as the deluge intensified, and Mole muttered a curse. He was so lost in his grumbling, that he almost missed Logan's next words.

"Tell me about Lydecker."

The request surprised him more than he wanted to admit. After all, Lydecker had been the big news around TC for weeks, bigger even than the progress being made with the military and local government. It was Mole's good opinion that most of the transgenics didn't believe compromise was possible. They wanted freedom, sure, in an abstract, wave-a-flag-and-raise-a-fist kind of way. But the concept of true freedom, of being able to live in the world like real people, was still foreign.

Lydecker was a known entity, infamous at Manticore, even to those transgenics who never knew him. For those who did, mostly X5s, the animosity they felt toward the man was palpable. Stories began to circulate, some true, others embellished. The actual damage done by Manticore was slowly coming to light, and Lydecker's presence in Terminal City provided a convenient target for the population's growing anger and mistrust. The fact that the Colonel spent a good portion of his time and attentions studying Alec and his condition only increased their suspicion.

"What do you want to know about Lydecker?" Mole asked.

Logan shrugged his shoulders.

"I want to know why he's here. If you trust him, or if he's just making things worse."

Mole took a moment to mull over his response. Truthfully, his relationship with Donald Lydecker was relatively new. He had a few notable recollections of the man from his time at Manticore, but had spent a majority of his adult life deployed overseas, and out of the Colonel's reach. His childhood memories from the compound were riddled with holes, the ones he retained mired in training and discipline. Occasionally, he dreamt of his room in the basement, cool and dark, with no trace of Lydecker, or anyone else.

But sometime over the past several months, Logan had managed to gain his trust; that much he was sure of. Years of conditioning, however, made him wary of bringing the man further into his confidence, particularly concerning anyone or anything related to Manticore.

"You don't have to answer that." Logan said, sensing his hesitation, "I've never been able to understand half of what he does. We just…we need to know if he can be trusted, or if he's serving some greater agenda."

"No one is happy to have him here, I can tell you that much." Mole conceded. "Half our people want to string him up just on principle, the other half would settle on booting his ass out of Seattle. The younger ones call him the Boogie Man, like, any day now he'll just start stealing 'em out of their beds, locking 'em up again. But he said he'd take care of the boy, so they left him alone. Now that he's awake, though, I'd say all bets are off."

* * *

Her morning began just after sunrise, with Otto Gottlieb, and a bag of stale donuts. She brewed a pot of coffee, using day old grounds, and filled two large mugs. They ran through their agenda for the next two days, full of planned interviews and tours of Terminal City. They discussed the live broadcast scheduled for the end of their visit, marking the official end of the siege. She'd spent the last week and a half planning, working out every detail with military-like precision. Melissa was nothing, if not organized.

Then Mole called about eightish, and shot all her well laid plans to hell.

"So, he's awake? No how or why, just 'the boy's awake, give Missy a heads up'? That's it? Do you even know what condition he's in?"

Otto spared a quick glance away from the rain-slicked road to roll his eyes in her direction.

"You don't think I'd tell you if I knew more? I'm beginning to think he's more Sphinx than lizard, for all the answers I manage to pry out of him."

Melissa crinkled her nose at the odd reminder of their contact's unusual genetics. She had been working with Mole for close to a month, mostly to receive updates on the transgenics, and Alec. She found him honest and forthright, impossible to intimidate. And he made her laugh. Of course, he was also a life-sized lizard-man. That took some getting used to.

"So Mole's keeping quiet. We'll be in Terminal City soon enough, we'll just have to do a little investigating. Between the two of us, it shouldn't be that hard to suss things out." she responded, teasingly.

Otto chuckled, "Obviously you haven't spent enough time with transgenics. These people were built for keeping secrets. _Manticore_ built them that way."

And just like that, the air in the car turned charged, and their conversation stuttered to a stop.

Melissa remembered the first whispers she heard of Manticore, the feeling of disbelief that flitted through her, before she discarded the rumors entirely. Government weapons, genetically engineered blah blah blah; it seemed more like the headlines for the Weekly World News than anything worth pursuing. Months passed. Slowly but surely, more accredited news sources began to run stories on the transgenics. She had already met Alec by then.

Not that she knew what he was, at first. The Alec she knew then was cocky and sweet, a pretty face and a good lay, with a talent for bar games and a fondness for scotch; no less, no more. Then she ran across a police bulletin announcing his arrest. Murder and mutilation, positive identification by a witness; she read the reports herself after his escape, shuddered at her close call.

Less than a week later, he'd come knocking on her door, those lovely features pinched with grief. A blind girl's body had just been discovered in the sewer, presumably murdered by a violent mutant. Joshua's Annie, she knew that now, killed by Agent White.

"Melissa." Otto called to her, voice cutting through her memories. She shook her head to focus.

"Otto."

The agent nudged her lightly, before pointing ahead.

"We're here."

* * *

One unforeseen benefit of the driving rain; it kept the protestors away. The walk through the barricade, and into Terminal City, was quick and uneventful, though more than a little wet. They met Mole, Logan and two transgenic guards once inside; also wet. Melissa felt her nervousness dissipate, as she caught sight of the soggy group. She outright laughed at the scowl Mole wore.

"So, you were made for desert warfare, huh?"

The transhuman's scowl deepened, "Yuck it up, Miss Bycroft. Can't say you're faring much better."

Melissa's hand rose instantly to pat at her hair, finding it slightly damp, but still intact, beneath her umbrella.

"Hilarious. Guess they dropped a little jackass in with your lizard bits."

Otto and Logan chuckled beside them, and even the two transgenic guards looked reluctantly amused. Mole just scoffed at her, and hid a smile behind his hand.

"Lizard bits?" he finally choked out, "Well, I guess that's better than saying I have iguana in my cocktail."

"It could certainly be worse."

Melissa looked to the transgenic addressing them, and felt a strong rush of longing for Alec. Not that the man in front of her resembled Alec in the least; he was a transhuman, and she still had a hard time connecting them to their X Series counterparts. No, Melissa's sudden fit of yearning had more to do with preparedness. Were Alec there, he would undoubtedly have given her a dossier of some kind, with information on all the major players in Terminal City for her to study before her visit. As cavalier as he often came across, when the occasion called for it, the man was a regular boy scout. A sexy, snarky, limber, boy scout.

"Melissa Bycroft," she said, and extended her hand, "and you are?"

The transhuman raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Dix." He replied, after a short, serviceable handshake.

She instantly recognized the name; she'd been working with a transhuman named Dix over the phone for the last week, ad nauseam, to organize this little outing. Of all the transgenics for her to run across and not recognize, it had to be him. She offered a weak smile, and tried to mask her discomfort. Her efforts, though for naught, seemed to please him well enough, as he quickly brightened, face sympathetic and kind.

"Don't worry about it. I'm told all us transhumans look alike, anyway."

They shared a small smile, and the awkward moment was forgotten. He turned to Otto and Logan to exchange brief introductions and greetings, while she observed her surroundings for the first time. Her mouth dropped involuntarily as she took in the buildings around her and the growing bustle of activity, common with any city easing into the late morning hours.

The last reports from Terminal City, before the transgenics took over, had been bleak, to say the least. The place was condemned, home only to the desperate. Now, though, now…

"It's something, isn't it?" Otto asked. He looked as astonished and bemused as she felt.

"They called it inhabitable. A wasteland."

Mole bumped her shoulder gently, stretched his arms out to his sides, to encapsulate all of Terminal City.

"Well then, allow me to welcome you to No Man's Land."

_Sorry for the long delay. The holidays, combined with multiple family emergencies, have been keeping me busy. I hope to have the next chapter up much faster. _

_Let me know what you think, particularly about Melissa. I'm not all that fond of OCs, but she's a bit of a necessary evil, here. Thanks again for reading, and reviewing. _


	6. Berserker

Walking Wounded

**Disclaimer: I claim no rights to Dark Angel, or any of the characters you find here.**

**Spoilers: Set one month after the events of Exit Strategy, which included spoilers for the entire series. **

**Chapter 6: Berserker**

The hallway ahead was deep and dark. Slivers of light peeked through boarded windows and beneath closed doors, to scatter aimlessly across the floor. They were not enough to see by, not enough to truly illuminate the walls and rooms, yet he sought out them out, skipped from one scrap of light to the next, hoping to draw some warmth, some modicum of comfort. He needed comfort.

His mind felt full, pulsing with knowledge he could really do without. For some reason, his thoughts strayed to his life at the compound. As a child there, he had suffered from violent nightmares. They were so intense, at times they would cause his whole body to vibrate, and the sturdy metal frame of his bunk would rattle against the cement floor.

Initially, they thought they were seizures. They brought him to Psy Ops for study, changed some of his medications. A couple of weeks passed, and they concluded they were only dreams. Dark, horrible, monstrous dreams. A few more adjustments to his meds, and the dreams were gone. Like magic, not that he had ever believed in that.

He imagined the monsters of his youth crashing through the tile beneath his feet, clawing their way to light. Would they crawl over the ruins they had made, to live in and infect his daytime hours, or simply pull him down to rot with them in the forbidding dark? And if they did, who would come for him? Who would defy his demons and wrestle him away? Who would place him on his feet again; give him direction and purpose? Who would give him hope?

There were no answers to his questions, no relief, no magic left.

For the first time since its demise, Dalton missed Manticore.

* * *

Original Cindy spent most of the morning by Alec's bedside. She watched his unblinking eyes, and searched for signs of life outside the rise and fall of his chest. She found none.

She tried telling him stories about Jam Pony and Crash, about Sketchy, Normal, Sky, Marina and Little Suki. She held his hand, and straightened his pillow. Mostly, she just waited.

Eventually, Luke headed back to Command, Gem ran out to check on baby Eve, and Doctor Shankar went to the infirmary for supplies. When Joshua stepped into the hall, to speak into his walkie-talkie in hushed tones, Cindy and Alec finally had their moment alone. She leaned forward, and whispered into his ear. She begged him to come back. He stayed, still as death, and just as quiet.

* * *

Joshua came back from the hallway looking wrung out. Cindy hopped off her chair, and walked to his side to ask what was wrong.

"Everything FUBAR, everything…"

She reached up on tiptoe to cup his face with both hands.

"Joshua, you tell Original Cindy what went down, and we'll figure it out."

"He's coming now," Joshua explained, "he found out about Alec, though no one knows how, and now he's coming but, Original Cindy, Alec isn't ready, Alec…"

"Joshua," Cindy broke in, "who's coming?"

The anomaly twisted his face into a snarl, and nearly spat out his reply.

"Lydecker."

It was the catalyst Cindy had spent all morning trying to discover, and the effect was instantaneous. Joshua spoke Lydecker's name, and Alec was on his feet and in motion. His restraints lay, unbroken and undone, on the bed. She wondered, distantly, how he'd managed to remove them, when she'd been staring at him for hours. Then she blinked, and found herself sitting on the ground, head aching, with her right arm cradled to her chest. Alec was unconscious in the open doorway, Joshua, Mole, and Agent Gottlieb standing over him. Three X series stood behind them. All seven men looked beaten and bloody.

No one spoke.

After several minutes, Joshua knelt down, and gently lifted Alec's limp body. He stood, walked back to the bed, and laid him down again. Mole stepped forward to reapply the restraints, tightening them till they looked painful. He nodded to the transgenics still standing in the doorway, and the group scattered, though she couldn't tell if any orders have been given. The reporter, Melissa Bycroft, was standing behind them. Cindy hadn't noticed her until now. She looked shell shocked.

"What happened?" Cindy asked. Otto offered her a steady hand, and helped her to stand. Joshua was holding a towel to a particularly nasty cut across Alec's cheek, trying to stem the flow of blood, while Mole just stared down at the bed, his eyes going out of focus. Melissa Bycroft stepped fully into the room, and stamped her foot down, hard, on the floor.

"You heard the woman! What in the _hell_ just happened?!" she yelled, making Cindy's head throb, and knocking the three men out of their various stages of shock.

"He was quiet," Joshua relayed, "and then I said his name, said…and Alec…Alec…" Joshua shook his head in confusion. Original Cindy could relate.

"He just flipped out." She responded, "One minute it's like nobody's home, the next…and I hit my head, or he did…"

"He didn't mean it!" Joshua exclaimed, curling his arms in a protective halo over Alec's still form.

"I know that, Joshua."

"What did you say? Before he did this?" Melissa asked; her voice cranked down to tolerable levels, now.

"Lydecker." Cindy answered. She saw that, even insensible, Alec grew restless at the name. "Joshua said his name, and Alec…"

"He was neutralizing potential threats, just like he was trained to." Mole explained gruffly, "I'm guessing you were the closest to him."

"Why do you say that?" Otto asked. The agent had found another towel, and was dabbing at a cut on his lip. He offered Original Cindy its brother, to place on her head. She was bleeding. Hadn't noticed that, either.

"You deal with the most immediate threat first, neutralize any lower level threats, and anything more formidable…" Mole faced Joshua. "He could have killed you. Would have, if we hadn't come along. Hell, boy nearly killed us."

Cindy's eyes widened as the pieces slid into place. Alec had knocked her out, and possibly broken her wrist. Alec had taken on six men, five of them transgenics. Alec had almost won. She blinked again.

* * *

Dalton entered the corridor at the exact moment Alec's body hit the ground. He froze at the sight, and remained that way until he heard someone calling his name. His eyes focused in on a hand, waving in front of his face. A hand stained with droplets of blood. It belonged to an X6 named Dax.

"He's awake." Dalton stated flatly.

"That's one way to put it."

"What happened?"

Dax lifted a hand to rub at the back of his neck, a nervous gesture.

"We're not sure." He finally replied, "When we showed up, he was whaling on Joshua, and the ordinary was out cold. He fought…I've never seen anyone fight like that, no one at Manticore, anyway. It's like he was possessed."

"He's dangerous." Dalton said, a light shiver making its way across his shoulder blades and down his spine.

Dax looked at him warily, "Well, we're all dangerous. Its what we were made to be."

Dalton nodded his head absently while Dax rattled on, his eyes fixed on a small pool of blood left behind from someone's wounds.

"I should go." The other boy's voice startled him, and he fought to conceal his flinch of surprise.

"Orders? Where are your headed?"

"Command. Have to report to 452, tell her the situation. You could come, maybe help?" he implored, eyes wide and hopeful.

"Yeah," Dalton agreed, "I'll help."

* * *

Original Cindy woke up lying on a stretcher. She looked around, and recognized the Terminal City infirmary. Max was sitting in a chair beside her, staring at her hands in her lap.

"What happened?" she asked. It felt like déjà vu.

"You passed out. Looks like you knocked your head pretty good, but the doc says you should be fine. Dizzy, but fine." Max replied. Cindy took another look at her surroundings.

"How'd I get here?"

"Mole carried you."

"Oh."

Original Cindy watched her friend; she looked nervous and uncomfortable. Original Cindy had had just about enough of that.

"You been sitting here long, boo?"

Max's head popped up at the endearment. Good.

"You still my homegirl, you know it?" Cindy asked, holding Max's gaze, "You're my sister, Max Guevara. Even when you piss me off."

Max gave her a small, but genuine, smile, and leaned over to gently bump OC's fist. Cindy smiled in return. She held up her injured wrist.

"So what's my damage?"

"Sprained. A little ice and some rest, and you should be fine."

"And Alec?"

Max's eyes skittered away. Cindy sighed.

"You didn't ask?"

"I'll get Mole." Max replied, and made to leave. She had the decency to look guilty, but that wasn't what Cindy wanted.

"Hold up there, Max." Cindy said. She raised herself up on her elbows, and scooted her whole body back, to rest higher on the pillows stuffed behind her. She was gonna need the better vantage point for this.

"Now, you're gonna sit your fine behind back in that chair, and tell me why you haven't asked about Alec."

"Cindy…"

"Nu uh, suga. It's time we hashed this out."

Max looked ready to launch another protest, but finally just nodded, resigned. She stood, and began pacing in front of OC's stretcher.

"Okay, it's like this," she began, "It was all easy when Alec was just some pain in the ass screw up. He'd get caught in some jam, and I'd have his back, you know? Then things started happening with White, and there was that whole mess with Logan, and Alec was just…there."

"Watching out for you, like you watch after him." Cindy stated, and Max bobbed her head in agreement.

"Right. And then, all the sudden, he's dying, and I never knew a thing."

Cindy furrowed her brow. "That's not on you, Max. I saw Alec everyday, and I never knew. Logan and Sketchy, too."

"But you're…"

"Ordinary?"

Max winced at the term, but recovered quickly. "The transgenics knew, every one of them. I can't help thinking I shoulda figured it out. Maybe if I had, things coulda been different."

Original Cindy bit on her bottom lip, considering.

"You thinking you coulda changed things, but from where I'm standin', things are looking pretty good for you and yours. Aside from Alec being all banged up and messed around. You think you coulda saved him?"

"No. I don't know. Maybe."

"That implant was set to blow, with or without your help. Nothing to be done, Max, but mop up afterwards."

"Still. And then there's…something else. I know no one wants to hear it but, sometimes, I look at Alec and…" Max stopped, but Cindy could see where she was headed.

"You see Ben."

"I know they're not the same. I'm not looking to Alec to be some kinda replacement." Max explained, her voice just this side of defensive.

"Ok, then what is it?" Cindy questioned carefully.

"It's…I never saw it. I mean; Ben was sick, so sick. I grew up with him, he was in my unit, and I never saw it. Even when I found him, I didn't want to believe it."

"And now you afraid you made the same mistake with Alec?"

"There's no question about it, OC. It's already done. I was so busy worrying about everything else; I missed what was right in front of me. He was falling apart, and I never knew."

A throat cleared from the doorway before Cindy could respond. It was Dalton, along with one of the transgenics who had been outside Alec's room.

"I'm sorry ma'am," the boy started, "Mole sent me to debrief you on the situation, but you weren't at Command and…"

"It's fine, Dax," Max interrupted, "and its not ma'am, its Max."

"Right, Max. So, I take it you know what happened?"

"Mole filled me in. But I didn't ask," Cindy saw Max take a steadying breath before continuing, "how's Alec?"

Dax blinked owlishly at the request. Apparently, Max's avoidance of all things Alec was common knowledge in TC. When the transgenic answered, his words were slow and measured.

"He's unconscious. He sustained a few superficial wounds from the fight, but nothing serious. But Joshua did have to knock him out. It was the only way to stop him."

"Thank you, Dax. That's all." Max said quietly.

Dax left, leaving Dalton behind. He was watching Max, studying her reaction curiously. There was something about the way he was moving that set Cindy's teeth on edge.

"When are you going to see him?" he asked, "Alec, he's awake, and he did this. You should see him."

"Dalton…" Max said his name softly and started to speak. Dalton spoke over her.

"But you won't, will you? Didn't visit him when he was in a coma, why would you bother with him now?"

"Suga, you need to calm down." Cindy tried to interject, but the boy was lost in his rambling. His voice was rising steadily.

"Why can't you see? He's your friend! He could have died, and he's awake now, and we don't know what's wrong with him, but you just act like he doesn't exist!"

Dalton knocked a metal tray off a nearby table. Cindy winced as the tray and all its contents fell to the floor.

"You're supposed to be his friend. You're supposed to care about him. You want to tell me you care about me, that you care about any of us, when you'll turn your back on a friend? How can I believe anything that comes out of your mouth?"

Cindy heard a sharp intake of breath, and saw Luke and Gem standing just inside the doorway. Dalton must have noticed them, as well, as he didn't continue, just rocked on his heels while he struggled to steady himself. Gem reached for him, but he stumbled away from her. He was out the door before Cindy could blink.

Max's uncertain voice broke the silence.

"What just happened?"

_Two chapters in one week! Thank you for the reviews. Keep them coming, they help motivate me. And thank you for reading!_


	7. Intelligence, Part 1

Walking Wounded

**Disclaimer: I claim no rights to Dark Angel, or any of the characters you find here.**

**Spoilers: Set one month after the events of Exit Strategy, which included spoilers for the entire series. **

_**This chapter contains a brief mention of sexual violence. It's not explicit by any means, but I thought you'd appreciate a heads up. **_

**Chapter 7: Intelligence, Part 1**

"I can't just pretend nothing happened!"

Melissa gestured around her, from the bloodstained floor, to the room's wounded occupants, to Alec's latent form. The man's body was now tied down securely, metal cuffs on both his wrists and ankles, attached to thick chains, which were then fed through the bed's frame. This, in combination with the original leather straps.

"I'm not asking you to, Melissa. I'm just asking you not to report it. What's happening with Alec isn't an ordinary occurrence. Once you put it out there, there's no taking it back."

Otto scrubbed a hand through his disheveled hair, and looked back up at the reporter. He could see the conflict brewing in her eyes.

He had spent a lot time with Melissa Bycroft over the last several weeks, and established a good working relationship. Nonetheless, the woman was still a reporter, and he had to tread lightly. Trust was a delicate thing when dealing with someone as intent on advancement and fame as Melissa was.

"Otto," she placed a gentle hand on his elbow and led him into the hall, "I don't want to see the transgenics buried in bad press any more than you do. But this, what happened here. I don't know what to do with this."

"He's not dangerous." He spit out, immediately aware of the irony of that statement, coming from someone who was still bleeding from wounds Alec had inflicted. Melissa rolled her eyes at his weak defense.

"I'm going to pretend you didn't just say that."

He tried to summon a grin to throw in her direction, anything to try ease the worry and calculation he saw on her face. Neither of them heard Gem approach.

"Is he awake?" she asked, causing Melissa to jump. Otto managed to hide his flinch, and turned to address the X5.

"Not yet. Not since…"

"Joshua cold cocked him?" Gem shrugged, and tilted her head back, "I just came from the infirmary. I talked to Max and Original Cindy."

"Original Cindy is awake? Is she alright?" Joshua asked, his sudden presence pulling the reaction from Otto that Gem's hadn't. Melissa stood firm by his side, smirking.

"She's fine." Gem replied, though Otto noticed her eyes were red and glassy. Joshua zeroed in on the source of her distress.

"How is Dalton? Did you find him?"

Her eyes widened at that, and darted to Melissa, before kindly shutting Joshua down with a quick nod. Otto took a mental note of the exchange; nonverbal communication seemed to be the preference for transgenics. It was one of the things he had learned while working with Alec.

Gem walked by them to enter the quiet room. She bent down to whisper softly in Alec's ear, before straightening and passing back into the hall. Through all of this, the man remained motionless.

"Dix tells me I'm scheduled for an interview with you, Miss Bycroft." Gem stated.

Her eyes looked clearer than they had moments before, more alert and aware. Her words seemed to snap Melissa's professionalism to attention. The two women bent forward to conference briefly, before nodding to Otto and Joshua in turn, and heading back in the direction of the Command Center. Save the three silent guards planted inside the room, Otto and Joshua were left alone.

"You're hurt?" Joshua asked him, though his gaze had swung back in Alec's direction.

"I'll be fine. Doctor Shankar looked me over before she left."

"Doctor Shankar hasn't left. Went to talk to him. To Lydecker." Joshua replied, the name a whisper on his lips. Otto watched Alec for any sign of recognition or agitation. He found none.

"He'll be all right." Otto said, trying to infuse his words with a confidence he didn't feel. Joshua smiled at him sadly.

"Alec's always all right."

* * *

494 was losing time. It wasn't the first time.

He came to consciousness slowly, like a gentle tide rolling into shore. He kept his eyes shut, and kept his aching limbs to still. He listened.

Two voices spoke in hushed tones from the hall, a man and woman. He heard names he didn't recognize, emotions he couldn't place, like desperation, worry and determination. That last one was far more familiar. There were footsteps, movement, a new voice, and new names. A wave of pain stole his attention for a moment. The next time he was aware, he sensed a body hovering over him, then lips were moving against his ear.

"I know you're awake, 494. Just listen. We're not the enemy. We need you here. We need _Alec_ here. Now stop being a stubborn bastard and snap out of it."

* * *

MELISSA BYCROFT: Tape 1, Interview 1. I'm in Terminal City speaking with Gem…do you have a last name? Or do you prefer your designation?

GEM: Just Gem is fine.

BYCROFT: And you're an X Series?

GEM: I'm an X5, yes.

BYCROFT: All right Gem, why don't we start with your responsibilities at Terminal City?

GEM: My primary responsibility is the mess. I helped to clear out and organize the designated area at the start of the siege. Now, I control rations; I plan, prepare and cook meals for all of TC.

BYCROFT: For the entire population?

GEM: Yes, ma'am.

BYCROFT: Call me Melissa.

GEM: Yes, Melissa.

BYCROFT: Has it been difficult, with the restrictions the government has placed on your resources?

GEM: You mean the military blockade outside? Yeah, I'd say it's been difficult. Better now, since Max made that deal with the mayor.

BYCROFT: And your daughter, Eve? You care for her, along with your other responsibilities?

GEM: Well, she is my daughter. Though I should say, in all fairness, that I have help when I need it.

BYCROFT: What can you tell me about her?

GEM: What do you want to know? She was born during the siege at Jam Pony. She's quiet and well behaved for a newborn, she sleeps through the night; overall she's a very agreeable baby.

BYCROFT: And her father; he was another transgenic?

GEM: (_p__auses_) Yes. He was my breeding partner.

BYCROFT: Breeding partner? Can you explain?

GEM: I'd rather not.

BYCROFT: Ok.

GEM: (_laughs_) I said I'd rather not, that doesn't mean I won't.

BYCROFT: How about I start? I'm told Manticore had a gene back, where most of the transgenics were created. That facility was destroyed, before the main Manticore compound?

GEM: That's true. Max blew it up.

BYCROFT: Oh.

GEM: Yeah, oh. (_laughs again_) After that, Manticore had to turn to the old fashioned method.

BYCROFT: Hence, breeding partners. I understand.

GEM: Not really. You can't. I mean; there's too much. The way we were made, Manticore was obsessed with controlling our genetics. They knew what they were looking for in a solider, what traits and attributes.

BYCROFT: So they combined human DNA with various animals' DNA to get the results they were looking for.

GEM: Right, but that was just how we were made, how we were born. It has nothing to say with how we were raised. They wanted to cultivate certain traits in us, and suppress the instincts that couldn't be exploited for their needs.

BYCROFT: But you can't dictate nature.

GEM: Didn't stop them from trying. Don't get me wrong; I'm proud of what I am. Most transgenics are. But Manticore was messing with something that, by all accounts, was better left alone. Anyway, it was more than the DNA manipulation.

BYCROFT: It was about control.

GEM: Control. Manticore wanted complete control over all of us. From the time we were born, they trained us to be obedient, to the point of suppressing our natural instincts. Human children develop in stages, they learn by testing their limits. Under ideal circumstances, they are encouraged to ask questions, challenge boundaries, and create their own identities. We were never given that luxury.

BYCROFT: But I've met plenty of transgenics, each with their own personalities and beliefs.

GEM: Not all of us are like Max, Alec or Mole. A lot of the transgenics still feel lost without the security and order Manticore provided. We chose leaders who were the strongest individuals. They aren't necessarily an accurate representation of the majority.

BYCROFT: So, you were raised in a very controlled environment, comfortable taking orders, regardless of any personal discomfort it may have caused.

GEM: I'm not sure "comfortable" is the right word. We were compelled. Some would say we were brainwashed. I don't know. (_pauses_) We spent our whole lives stifling certain urges.

BYCROFT: Like your sexuality, for example?

GEM: The higher ups didn't want to deal with any "adolescent impulses".

BYCROFT: Puberty must have been a nightmare.

GEM: No fraternization, no flirting and no fornication. Thankfully, our training included a lot of intense physical activity.

BYCROFT: Still, to have dozens of hormonal teenagers in such close quarters. It must have been difficult.

GEM: (_shrugs_) We were raised to follow orders. You had trouble obeying, and they'd add another pill to your morning regimen. Problem solved.

BYCROFT: That seems a bit unreasonable.

GEM: Like I said; they liked control. I'm sure they found it perfectly reasonable. Of course, once they started deploying units, we became more difficult to regulate, but most of us remained…inactive.

BYCROFT: And then they were forced to assign breeding partners.

GEM: When we heard about the orders, it was…chaos. The females had already been through some hormonal issues, a side effect from our feline DNA, but that had been taken care of years ago. They never taught us to manage it. Them. Hormones. On top of it, we only received elementary sex education. (_sighs_) Most of us were so naïve.

BYCROFT: And your breeding partner, Eve's father?

GEM: He, uh, he already had a couple of marks on his record, a few evaluations that didn't go well. Small stuff, but he was nervous.

BYCROFT: About following the order?

GEM: Some of the other male transgenics had problems…performing.

BYCROFT: And they were disciplined for disobedience?

GEM: I assume they were euthanized. I suppose he had reason to be concerned.

BYCROFT: I suppose so.

GEM: He, my breeding partner, he had a hard time. Not performing, but with control. Neither of us had ever…It didn't go well. For either of us. He was overwhelmed, and it made him aggressive. Very aggressive. We didn't expect it to be that way.

BYCROFT: I'm sorry. This…what happened to him?

GEM: The last I heard, he died in the fire.

BYCROFT: I was told that Manticore locked your dormitories; that they were attempting to cauterize the site.

GEM: We didn't know at first but yes, they were trying to kill us. It was Max who broke in and let us out.

BYCROFT: And your breeding partner, he was trapped?

GEM: He wasn't trapped. He stayed behind. Purposefully. That's what I heard, anyway.

BYCROFT: He…

GEM: I don't think Manticore ever considered us as human, so they never accounted for human reactions. All humans have their breaking point. I guess it never occurred to them, that transgenics would, too.

* * *

_Alecalecalecalecalecalec_

The name ran through his mind on a continuous loop, familiar and foreign at the same time. He continued eavesdropping on his captors, gathering what intel he could, but the name pounded away in the back of his mind. _Alec_.

He cleared his mind and forced himself to focus.

His injuries were minimal, mild bruising and a few scratches scattered across his skin. He had been rendered unconscious, but wasn't concussed. He was sore, though, and slightly dizzy, even lain out like he was. Despite his desire to more thoroughly assess his situation, he was tired and confused. With his eyes already shut and his breathing slow and even, he drifted away, that name an endless lullaby, pulling him to sleep.

_Thank you, once again, for reading and reviewing. I've been struggling a bit with an important plot point, but I think I've got it squared away. _

_Please let me know if you run across any plot holes as you read. I try to be wary of them (like female heat, for example, which has conveniently been dealt with by Manticore, so I don't have to). Of course, some answers you'll just have to wait for. _


	8. Intelligence, Part 2

Walking Wounded

**Disclaimer: I claim no rights to Dark Angel, or any of the characters you find here.**

**Spoilers: Set one month after the events of Exit Strategy, which included spoilers for the entire series. **

**Intelligence, Part 2**

"I know you're awake. Least you could spout off your rank and designation for me."

494 worked to keep as still as possible, though the novelty of playing possum was wearing thin. He heard movement to the left of him, a nervous shuffling of feet.

"Come on and work with me here, Princess."

His eyes snapped open of their own accord.

The speaker was another transhuman. He recognized the dark, scaly form as a desert unit- he had run across similar creatures while on assignment- and was put, reluctantly, at ease.

"There we are," the thing said, an unlit cigar bobbing between its clenched teeth. The sight, like the previous endearment, felt oddly familiar.

"Now," it spoke again, tilting its head to catch his eye contact, "you ready to talk to me?"

"Specialist, X5-331845739494."

The transhuman huffed a laugh.

"Well, that's English, at least."

494 blinked, but kept his eyes fixed straight ahead. He hadn't meant to break protocol. If this were a simulation, he would have been reprimanded and punished for the breach. In the current situation, however, he felt inexplicably lightened. This relief in the face of disobedience led him to speak.

"Where am I?" he asked, voice rough with disuse and something else. Perhaps he had been strangled recently. The transhuman looked visibly stunned, before gathering itself to reply.

"You're in Seattle, place called Terminal City."

He wasn't familiar with the specific location, but knew Seattle wasn't far from base.

"You Manticore?" he asked.

The transhuman nodded, still looking surprised.

"You want to tell me why I'm here?"

"You were injured. You're recovering."

"Recovering from what?"

The thing looked away, its careful gaze sweeping from his tender head, to his bound ankles and wrists.

"What's the last thing you remember?" it asked.

He shrugged his reply, "Blood. Lots of it."

"Right," it nodded, like his macabre memories made any kind of sense, like they were expected, "yours?"

"Some. Take off these chains and I'll paint you a picture."

A smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth; he let it come. The expression felt natural on his face. He cocked an eyebrow- an experiment, nothing more- and a deep sense of rightness settled in him, bone deep. He wondered at the feeling.

Manticore had never been fond of insolence, had no tolerance for disrespect. It was a lesson they took great joy in teaching, though it had never managed to resonate with 494. He learned to contain his wry looks and cutting sarcasm, to practice subtly. As a result, his unit mates spent a fair amount of time studying his interactions with their superiors, waiting for the moment when he would go to far. _His unit._

"Where are they? Did you kill them?"

"Kill them?" The thing looked back at him, confused, "Just what do you remember?"

"Blood. Just, blood." 494 blinked and tried to shake the images from his head. He needed answers, and if this thing was Manticore, "Where's Sandoval? You got him hiding out in the hallway somewhere?"

The transhuman was watching him now with concern.

"Sorry Princess, last I checked, Sandoval's dead."

He reached for the door and made to slide out into the hall, before glancing back 494's way.

"Hang on," the thing said, and he was alone.

He took a deep breath, and willed himself to remain calm. Sandoval was dead, if the transhuman was to be believed. Logically, he knew he should feel alarmed, should be anxious to continue plotting out his escape at this development. If Sandoval was dead, there wasn't much hope for his unit, and even less hope for him.

Instead, for the first time since waking, he began to reconsider the conclusions he had drawn, based on the words and actions of his supposed captors. A memory nudged at the corner of his mind of a soft female voice, reciting stories and short anecdotes of a man called Alec; the man they believed him to be. The voice told him Manticore was gone, that Manticore was burned to dust, and that X5-494 had gone with it. It told him of a life already partially lived outside of Manticore's oppressive walls, a life that could be his.

He had just begun to process these traitorous thoughts, when the transhuman returned. It looked nervous.

"I've got someone who wants to talk to you, but you gotta promise me you won't try and kill him."

494 fought to keep his face void of reaction. "Why would I want to kill him?"

"We've got you trussed up like a bird, pretty boy, and you'll just end up hurting yourself. I've had enough of cleaning up your blood for the day," it replied, cleanly avoiding his question. He asked again.

Another body stepped into the room, footsteps even and sure.

"Thank you Mole, I'll take it from here," said the room's newest occupant, "Hello, 494."

The voice belonged to Donald Lydecker, the face, the body, and those steady footsteps, all Lydecker. A flare of hate ignited within him at the sight, and 494 felt his mind begin to slip. He grasped at his sanity and clung on, determined to stare this man in the face without falling away.

"Sir."

"How are you feeling?" The man asked, and stepped forward, causing ripples of disgust to roll through him.

"494?"

The transhuman, Mole, clamped a scaly hand down on Lydecker's shoulder.

"I think that's enough, Colonel."

Lydecker didn't budge, kept his eyes locked on 494's. He spoke again, using the voice he reserved for giving difficult orders, soft, yet firm.

"Talk to me, soldier."

494 felt his body struggle to snap to attention beneath the weight of his restraints. The impulse left him nauseous.

"Why don't you tell me where I can find my unit, _sir_? Have they been terminated? Did you take them apart?"

The man breathed deeply, but his expression stayed the same.

"I want you to listen to me, son. Your unit isn't dead. You've been injured, and your mind…"

"And when did you start worrying about my mind, sir?" 494 questioned.

"I worry about all my kids," Lydecker replied simply.

Hatred roiled in 494's stomach, turned to anger and vengeance. "Then I should tell you, I'm gonna kill you, sir," he said, his voice low and hard, "I'm planning it now."

The Colonel cocked his head and leaned closer, said, "What's that, 494?"

Memories began to leak into his mind, leaving behind grisly afterimages that lingered in the edges of his vision. His unit, slaughtered like cattle, their warm blood coating the walls of a long, vacant hallway, the white tile floor stained red and Lydecker, standing at the end of it. 494 curled his lip into a sneer.

"Tell me something; you kill Sandoval, too?"

He watched the Colonel's impassive face, saw the brief show of guilt that fluttered across it. It was enough. Finally, finally, 494 fell away.

* * *

MELISSA BYCROFT: Tape 2, Interview 2. I'm speaking with Dix…

DIX: Just Dix. No designation.

BYCROFT: Okay, Dix. And you're a transhuman, or anomaly, correct?

DIX: Yes.

BYCROFT: What does that mean, exactly? I mean…

DIX: It's all right, Miss Bycroft. Would you like me to explain?

BYCROFT: (_coughs_) Please do. And please, call me Melissa.

DIX: (_pauses_) Melissa, all of the transgenics were created for a specific purpose. The X Series were made for combat and covert operations, so they needed to have the physical attributes one would expect from a soldier; strength, speed, adaptability, and so on. But they also needed to be able to pass easily among the civilian population.

BYCROFT: And the transhumans? Why were you not created to blend in? Wouldn't your value have increased if you had been given a more human appearance?

DIX: The early transhumans or 'anomalies', like Joshua and myself, were created when Manticore scientists were still experimenting and perfecting their process. They hadn't yet learned the proper way to isolate certain genetic attributes, including our physical characteristics.

BYCROFT: So the transhumans were a trial run for the X Series?

DIX: In a way. Transhumans, as a whole, fall into two categories: the early experiments, and later models that were created for specific terrain and combat situations. Take Mole, for example. His skin and internal body temperature were optimized for desert warfare. His appearance reflects his utility.

While it was primarily known as a military institution, Manticore was, first and foremost, a scientific community. Given enough time and funds, they would have been capable of anything. At the time of its demise, they were still researching and perfecting the transgenic model. It's one of the reasons there are so many transhumans still alive; the scientists had been unable to replicate certain characteristics in the later X Series that were already present in the transhuman population.

BYCROFT: It sounds like they wanted a transgenic designed for every situation.

DIX: Yes, they were always very thorough.

BYCROFT: You said "still alive"; were many of the transhumans killed at Manticore?

DIX: (_pauses_) When I said that many of us were experiments, that reached past our mere creation. Some were tortured to determine pain thresholds, others killed so they could be dissected and studied.

BYCROFT: Gem told me that Manticore never regarded you as human, that they never accounted for human reactions.

DIX: They defined us by whatever terms were convenient. At times we were weapons, at others, animals. I suppose that's fair enough, considering our genetic backgrounds.

BYCROFT: And what we were you…created for? Did they have a specific purpose in mind?

DIX: Intelligence.

BYCROFT: Like secret ops, spying?

DIX: (_laughs_) No, not quite. From my understanding, I was created while they were still trying to discover the limitations of our intellectual capabilities. Apparently, it was a very fine line to walk; creating intelligent beings, that are still willing to accept and follow orders.

BYCROFT: And were you studied?

DIX: I'd rather not discuss that. I will tell you, as I stated earlier, that they were always very thorough. No transgenic in their custody was spared the scientist's meticulous care and attention.

BYCROFT: (_pauses_) As a transhuman, have you found your own experiences at Manticore coloring your interactions with the other transgenics?

DIX: You mean the later X Series?

BYCROFT: (_nods_)

DIX: I admit, at first, I was…apprehensive. The X Series, particularly the X5s, were known for two things, their impressive range of skills and abilities, and their arrogance.

BYCROFT: (_laughs_) That is…no surprise at all.

DIX: I hadn't had a lot of one-on-one experience with the X5s at the compound. Alec, in fact, was the first X5 I had any significant interaction with. He came to Terminal City looking for Joshua; this was before the siege. The welcome we gave him was…not a warm one. But he was adamant, determined to find him. Then with Alec came Max, and the true birth of the transgenic movement.

BYCROFT: So would you say the transgenics are now united, despite their differences?

DIX: The transgenics are as united as any other nation of people. Make of that what you will.

* * *

"What the hell just happened in there?" Mole yelled, his furious face planted mere inches from Lydecker's rather passive one.

He knew what he had seen and heard.

Alec had spoken with the Colonel, though it had been a slow start. The two men had sized each other up, like two dogs priming to attack. Scratch that, Alec had been priming to attack. Lydecker had been slow and careful, in the words he spoke and his approach. Only once had the man fallen into his customary military tone.

The conversation had centered on the whereabouts of Alec's unit, and Sandoval. Then the transgenic had outright questioned old Deck about Sandoval's death. What happened next was disturbing, to say the least.

The awareness that had shone in Alec's eyes throughout the conversation went out like a light, and the boy's body bucked against his restraints with so much force, that Mole swore he'd heard bones break. Through some combination of transgenic strength and sheer force of will, he'd managed to free one arm in time to grab the Colonel and drag him to his knees. The man's neck now had five distinct, finger shaped marks decorating his throat, Alec was unconscious again, and Mole was furious.

"I was afraid of this," Lydecker said at last. Mole growled when he offered nothing more.

"You better give me more than that, or the US government is gonna find itself short one Colonel."

Lydecker exhaled, and dropped his mask indifference. The man looked tired. He looked at Mole, looked back toward Alec, and spoke.

"Psy Ops."

Mole sighed.

"Son of a bitch."

_Thanks again for reading and reviewing. These chapters are taking me longer than I'd like, so I appreciate your patience. _

_So, obviously, I'm using Melissa Bycroft to play off the transgenics, and gain some different POVs of the 'Manticore experience'. Any suggestions for who you'd like to hear from next? For anyone who's curious, the next chapter will see the return of Max. Let me know if there's anyone else you miss, and I'll see what I can do. _

_Thanks for reading, now review, review, review! _


	9. Debrief

Walking Wounded

**Disclaimer: I claim no rights to Dark Angel, or any of the characters you find here.**

**Spoilers: Set one month after the events of Exit Strategy, which included spoilers for the entire series. **

**Chapter 9: Debrief **

_Just an FYI; I'm taking some major liberties here with several things mentioned in show canon, particularly reindoctrination, and anything related to Psy Ops. I tried my best not to outright contradict what we've been told, but that doesn't mean I succeeded. Try your best to just go with it. _

Max stayed with Original Cindy in the infirmary until mid-afternoon. They caught up on the past two weeks of their lives, discussed the negotiations with the government ("Like trying to cuddle a python, lots of hissing and squirming"), and Cindy's newest honey (a redhead named Sharlotte; "sharp as a tack, with legs for days"). They talked about Logan ("I hear one 'we're not like that' slip past that tongue, and you'll be wishing you never left Manticore") and Lydecker ("You sure that man's not part cat, cause he's got nine lives, at least"), but avoided any more discussion about Alec.

OC was just catching her up on the crew at Jam Pony, when Doctor Shankar stepped into the room, looking harassed. She began filling a small bag with first aid supplies, including an ice pack, suture kit, ace bandage and sling. Max glanced at OC, still tender and aching from Alec's rough handling, and tried to swallow down her sense of foreboding.

"What's up, doc?" she asked warily.

"Alec woke up again," the doctor replied while she worked, "Apparently, there were some difficulties."

"Lydecker?" Cindy asked from her stretcher.

Doctor Shankar bit out a 'yes', zipped up the bag, and headed for the door.

"Wait," Max called to her before she could step into the hall, "what happened exactly?"

"I'm not sure, Max. Alec was the only one injured, and Mole's certain that he broke something. Probably looking at another head injury, as well."

"Where are they? Lydecker and Mole?"

"Headed for command, last I heard. I'm surprised I didn't pass them on the way here."

The doctor took one last perfunctory look at her patient's head and wrist, and was gone. Original Cindy waited no more than thirty seconds before coughing pointedly in Max's direction, and motioning for the door.

"Well, get a move on."

"OC," Max started. Cindy narrowed her eyes, and gave a firm shake of her head.

"Nuh uh. Social hour is over, boo. Now you buzz outta here, and find out about our boy," she ordered. Max bit down on a smile, before giving OC a concerned once over.

"I can wait till Doctor Shankar gets back," she offered, "or get Luke down here, or Joshua."

"Luke's out hunting for Dalton, Joshua's at the mess hall, and Original Cindy can damn well look after herself," Cindy replied, "You've been hiding from this Alec situation for too long. You gotta step up and show these transgenics why you're the big boss lady around here."

"What if I can't?" Max asked, "What if I'm not cut out for this."

"You gotta stop trying to talk yourself outta this," Cindy admonished, "You and Mole got that whole joint-leadership dealio all dialed in, and you got a whole slew of people waiting to back you up. Just try to curb those ass kicking tendencies of yours, and you'll do just fine."

"No ass kicking?"

"Anybody gives you trouble, you just remember all those stress relief exercises Herbal taught us."

Max smiled at the reminder of her old friend, "I'm not sure lighting up in our command center is the best way to assert my authority."

"Max Guevara, did you just make a joke at me? Here I thought you'd lost your sense of humor, hanging out with all those bureaucrats," OC smiled at her kindly, and waved her good arm at toward the door, "Now you best go and snap those boys into line."

Max reached forward to squeeze her friend's shoulder, made promises to come check on her soon, and headed out.

* * *

She arrived at Command in time to see Mole and Luke arguing, flanked by Agent Gottlieb and Logan on one side, and Colonel Lydecker and Dix on the other. She counted roughly ten transgenics eavesdropping from various places around the room, along with Sketchy and Melissa Bycroft, who were watching the men curiously from behind their section of the room, which had been cordoned off for interviews.

Max took a deep breath, counted to ten, and kept walking. She sidestepped the small group, and headed toward the room they had designated for conferences and brainstorming sessions. She propped open the door, checked to confirm the room was empty, turned back toward the fighting men, and whistled harshly in their direction.

Eighteen heads spun to look at her; Max simply turned again, entered the room, and sat down. Six sets of feet soon followed. Once everyone was inside, she motioned for Mole to shut the door, and counted to ten again.

"There's a reason we have this room," she finally spoke, "who can tell me?"

The men exchanged sheepish glances, but didn't bother to answer. Even Lydecker, whose neck was decorated with a suspicious ring of mottled bruises, looked chagrined. Max took another deep breath.

"We have it so that every transgenic, every _reporter_ within hearing distance can't listen in on every conversation we have. If we didn't plan on using it, then we shouldn't have spent so much time making it soundproof. Now, what's got you two all up in arms five feet from two of Seattle's nosiest journalists?" she asked, fixing her glare on Luke and Mole, in turn.

"The Colonel here has got a theory about Alec's little freak outs," Mole answered.

Max shook her head, confused. "Well, that seems like a good thing. Why…"

"He wants to share privileged information, information that wasn't even in Alec's file, and just…he wants to just tell…like they're not Alec's secrets," Luke interrupted, stuttering as he spoke, "It's not right. Alec wouldn't want it."

The anomaly slumped in his chair. Max took note of the defeated look on his face. She counted to ten, took a few breaths, and counted once more.

"Luke," she addressed him directly, "if Lydecker knows something we can use, we need to know it. I'm all for privacy, but Alec needs help."

"I know," he replied, and stood, "and I understand, Max, but I can't be a part of it."

With that Luke walked out, leaving the room's six remaining occupants shifting in their seats.

"Things didn't go well with Dalton," Dix said once the door was shut, "he just needs some time."

Max closed her eyes, and turned to Lydecker.

"Is this the only way to help him?" she asked.

"I can't to tell you that, Max," he replied, "but it will help."

Max pointed at Agent Gottlieb and Logan.

"Do they need to be here?"

"Can't hurt." Mole retorted.

The situation made Max uneasy. She tried to imagine the five men watching her intently from across the table, human and transgenic alike, pouring over her history at Manticore. The thought made her shudder. Logan must have caught the involuntary reaction, as he whispered her name, and nodded encouragingly. Max sent him a smile of thanks, and gestured for Mole to continue.

"Our buddy Lydecker here seems to think the boy's time in Psy Ops has got something to do with these fits he's been having."

"Right," Lydecker agreed, "Max, are you sure you want to hear this?"

"Quit your hedging, Colonel," Mole growled, "If the little lady doesn't want to hear it, she's more than welcome to leave. Now, Psy Ops."

Max watched the two men, and was surprised to find a glint of respect in Lydecker's eyes as he acknowledged Mole's comments. She filed the look away, and centered all of her attention on the Colonel.

"You should know, 494 was always a bit of a special case."

Mole cocked his head and asked, "Cause of the twin, er, clone thing?"

"Partially," Lydecker answered, "494 was first taken to Psy Ops after the escape in '09, for reindoctrination. He had some complications."

"What kind of complications?" Agent Gottlieb asked.

He looked nervous and concerned, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth and leaning forward in his chair. Max observed him from across the table with interest.

The revelation of Otto Gottlieb and Alec's alliance on the day of White's attack had surprised Max more than she wanted to admit. In truth, it was the trust and loyalty Alec had managed to inspire in the agent, in such a short span of time, that baffled her. It was a quality Max would have never attributed to the X5 before then. Of course, after spending the past month fielding questions about Alec's welfare, from what seemed like every transgenic in Terminal City, she had been forced to open her eyes to the uncanny influence Alec had over people.

"He suffered a massive seizure during the procedure," Lydecker responded, drawing Max back to the conversation.

"During reindoctrination?" Dix asked, his voice frail.

"Yes. We had been aware of the seizures for quite some time by then, and were trying to find a solution. We'd already had several of our X5s die from them, your 'brother', for one," he said, motioning to Max.

She nodded dumbly, still trying to comprehend the horror Alec must have felt, showing that kind of weakness in front of Lydecker and a room full of Manticore scientists. Thankfully, Lydecker seemed to understand and kept talking.

"The seizures were getting worse, and something needed to be done."

"What did you do to him?" Mole asked, noticeably struggling to keep his anger in check.

"We needed a live subject so, for six months, we had one."

"Jesus," Logan said softly, "six months of experimentation? On a child?"

Lydecker was opening his mouth to reply, when Dix stood abruptly.

"Luke was right. We shouldn't be hearing this," the transhuman stated. He stepped away from the group and walked out of the room, shutting the door behind him. No one else moved.

"What happened next?" Max prompted.

"Nothing," the Colonel replied, acknowledging the return to the subject at hand, "When the research was finished, he went back to training. It wasn't until afterwards that we began to notice small changes in his attitude; flippancy toward authority, hesitancy to submit to orders, particularly ones that called for excessive or deadly force. He seemed…more aware."

"Aware?"

"He was never insubordinate, but he drew a fine line."

"How about we get back to Psy Ops," Mole directed.

"Where the other twins successfully completed reindoctrination and simplification, our efforts with 494 failed. Incidentally, this failure led to his next significant trip to Psy Ops."

"After the Berrisford mission," Logan supplied. Max noticed Agent Gottlieb nodding in understanding, and wondered when the man had been filled in on the specifics of that part of Alec's life.

"Because of his reaction to our previous attempts, we were hesitant to try again."

"Afraid of triggering another seizure, were you? You wanna tell me you didn't try anyway?" Mole questioned, edging forward in his chair.

"We did. He didn't have a seizure, but he didn't react well, either," Lydecker answered through pursed lips, "He went completely catatonic; we almost had to put him down."

"Catatonic like he's been for the last month?"

"Worse."

"Were you ever planning on telling us all this, or were you just going to wait it out?" Logan asked, voice curious.

"You heard Luke and Dix," Mole replied, "the boy wouldn't want us poking around in his past if there were any other options. Wait and see's a good a plan as any. What happened next?"

"He woke up eventually, claimed to have no memory of anything after being given Berrisford. Even asked if he still needed to complete his assignment. But the higher ups weren't happy, recommended him for euthanization. It was Sandoval, in the end, who suggested an alternate form of treatment."

"What kind of treatment?"

Lydecker sighed, "494 was a risk, a disobedient soldier. He needed motivation to follow orders, so we provided it."

"What kind of treatment?" Mole asked for a second time, rising from his chair. He leaned forward on the table and growled menacingly, "What did you people put him through?"

"Manticore had a group of transgenics specifically bred for work in Psy Ops," Lydecker replied blandly.

"Like Mia," Max recalled the slightly unsettling transgenic, "We ran into her a couple of months ago; she used telecoercion."

"We needed 494 to believe there would be consequences for his disobedience outside of himself. One of our operatives specialized in hypnosis, and was particularly adept at implanting memories and images."

Mole sprang across the table, grabbed for Lydecker's collar, and pulled the man forward.

"His unit isn't dead, are they?" the transhuman snarled, "You gave him fake memories of his entire unit dying to keep him in line."

"They were going to kill him," Lydecker gasped, as he pushed Mole away, "We were going to kill him. Steps had to be taken. Anyway, the unit was…494 hadn't been a part of a regular unit since the escape in '09."

Max widened her eyes and stood to her feet, but remained silent.

"So who were they about," Logan asked, "the memories?"

"No one. 494's memories of his unit were as fabricated as their 'deaths'."

"That's supposed to be better? You make up some dead trannies, damn well traumatize the boy," Mole shook his head, and fell back into his seat, "and they put you in there too, didn't they? That's why he's so eager to take you down. You're swimming around in there, along with Sandoval, and Alec's fake, dead unit. Oh yeah, and the blood. Don't forget the goddamn blood."

Lydecker nodded and sat back down. Max swayed on her feet and quickly took in the reactions of the two ordinaries in the room. Agent Gottlieb looked pale and slightly green around the edges, while Logan had fallen forward, and was holding his head in his hands.

"But Biggs. They were always talking about missions and…" Max stuttered off, confused.

"494 was a Specialist," Lydecker said, "brought in when he was needed. He didn't have a regular unit, but would be assigned a temporary one on missions, and whenever he was back at Manticore for training or evaluation. Never for longer than a few months at a time, and rarely the same one twice."

Mole let out a loud, bitter laugh, causing Logan's head to jerk up.

"Bet that pissed you off, huh, Colonel. All that trouble you went through to keep him from softening up, forming 'human relationships', and the boy turns out to be some goddamn social butterfly."

"Like I said," Lydecker replied, smiling slightly, "494 always was a special case. Even the guards were…fond of him. We had to modify the rotation whenever he was home."

"He was selling them his supplements," Max said, eager to prolong the abrupt change of atmosphere in the small room, "had some kind of racket going on."

"That sounds like our Alec," Logan agreed.

He seemed steadier, and Max noticed the agent was quickly regaining his color. Mole had relaxed back in his seat, looking pensive, but no longer angry, while Lydecker looked thoughtful, and sad, of all things. Max waited several minutes before breaking the quiet.

"How do we help him?" she asked.

"We can't," Lydecker responded, "but I think I know someone who can."

_Thank you, once again, for reading and reviewing. For a chapter entirely from Max's POV, this one was pretty Alec centric (without, of course, including Alec). Let me know if you had any trouble understanding what's going on here, at least as far as Alec is concerned, or if anyone seems OOC._

_The next chapter will most probably have another interview with Melissa Bycroft. Allow me to recommend my other fic "Pack", which will give you some background and context for the interviewee._

_Thanks again for reading!_


	10. Economy of Force

Walking Wounded

**Disclaimer: I claim no rights to Dark Angel, or any of the characters you find here.**

**Spoilers: Set one month after the events of Exit Strategy, which included spoilers for the entire series. **

**Chapter 10: Economy of Force**

Luke was pacing. He'd always been the nervous type, clenching and unclenching his hands at his sides, biting on the inside of his cheek, and pacing. He was a pacer.

A half hour had passed since he left the conference room, twenty-five minutes since Dix followed. He didn't regret leaving, not for a minute. After a lifetime spent under Manticore's watchful gaze, Alec had earned his right to privacy. Luke wanted to help, he did, but he wouldn't be the one to cross that line. Even so, he could feel a morbid curiosity rising in him as the minutes slipped away.

"Could you stand still?" Dix asked, interrupting his circuit.

He shook his head, spun on his foot, and headed in the opposite direction.

"They should be done soon, shouldn't they? How long can they talk in there?"

"Luke, you need to sit."

"It's bad, isn't it? I don't want to hear it, can't hear it, but it's bad, right?"

"Yes," Dix replied, and bowed his head.

Luke finally stopped moving, and fell back into an empty chair. Of course things were bad, it wasn't like he was expecting anything less. The entire situation had a scent of hopelessness about it that had him squirming. From the moment Alec had woken up that morning, spouting his serial number in three different languages, Luke had been squirming. Squirming and pacing.

He stood abruptly, and restarted his route.

If nothing else, he was happy to have Dix's company. More than that, he was happy that Dix had left the room voluntarily. Not to support Luke's actions, but based on his own moral sensibilities. Luke couldn't help his surge of disappointment in the ordinaries, who had needlessly stayed behind. He could acknowledge the necessity of Max and Mole's presence during Lydecker's narrative, but the additional witnesses seemed gratuitous.

He was in the middle of another heel turn, when the door to the conference room swung open. It was Mole. The transhuman gestured to him and Dix, and waved them back towards the room.

"Powwow's over," Mole explained, "just logistics now."

Luke faced Dix, looking for direction. Dix nodded, and stood. Naturally, Luke followed.

* * *

MELISSA BYCROFT: Tape 2, Interview 3. Okay honey, my name is Melissa, and I'm just going to ask you a couple of questions. Don't be nervous, okay? (_laughs_) We'll start with an easy one. What's your name?

BUGLER: Bugler, I guess, but you can call me Bug. That's what everyone calls me.

BYCROFT: All right Bug, and you're an X Series?

BUGLER: Yes Ma'am. I'm X8…I have a serial number. Do you want that? Ralph said I don't have to answer to that anymore, every again, but…well, Max said it first. She told us we weren't soldiers; that we were people, and we needed to start acting like it, and that's when we got names.

BYCROFT: (_pauses_) Well both Ralph and Max are right. I don't need your serial number.

BUGLER: Okay.

BYCROFT: And you are?

FIXIT: You can call me Fixit. I'm an X6. (_whispering_) I'm right here Bug. You talk to Miss Bycroft, and just kick me if you don't know how to answer, okay?

BYCROFT: So, Bug and Fixit, those are unusual names.

BUGLER: We have other ones, ones we use out there. That's just what we call each other at home.

BYCROFT: Home?

BUGLER: Yeah.

BYCROFT: Where's home now?

BUGLER: Wherever Fixit and Ralph and Zero and Bullet are. And me. I guess the place doesn't matter, does it?

BYCROFT: No, it doesn't. That's very smart of you. Can you tell me how old you are, Bug?

BUGLER: (_At this point, he kicks Fixit under the table_)

FIXIT: Bug's almost ten now. We gave him a summer birthday.

BYCROFT: I see. And how do you like living in Terminal City?

BUGLER: It's fun. It's kinda like being back at base, except I don't have to wake up early and do my drills here, and everyone has names, and even the nomalies are up here with us.

BYCROFT: Nomalies?

FIXIT: He means the anomalies, the transhumans.

BUGLER: Yeah, like Mole and Joshua and Luke and Snow.

BYCROFT: And you like having them around?

BUGLER: Joshua's teaching me how to paint, and sometimes him and Gem let me play my bugle in the mess at breakfast. Not to wake anyone up or anything, but to let them know its time to eat. And sometimes Luke lets me help stock things at the infirmary, like cotton balls and bandages, and Mole and Snow are trying to teach me to play poker, but Bullet and Fixit don't like that very much.

BYCROFT: (_laughs_) I imagine not. Are you happy here?

BUGLER: (_pauses_) Ralph says we're allowed to be anything we want here. That, one day, all of us are gonna get to leave and go anywhere, and be anything we want there, too. But now, I guess, we have to stay together till everyone else is ready for that. For us to be everywhere, I guess. But…I like us together. I'm happy about that.

FIXIT: Bug, why don't you go find Gem, see if she's needs some help with Eve.

BUGLER: All right. Thank you ma'am. It was very nice to meet you.

BYCROFT: Thank you. It was very nice to meet you, Bug. (_Bugler leaves_)

FIXIT: Was that all you wanted, ma'am?

BYCROFT: Please, Melissa. And yes, that was good. He's certainly not shy, is he?

FIXIT: No, not much anymore.

BYCROFT: I have a couple of questions for you, if you don't mind?

FIXIT: No, ma'am. Melissa.

BYCROFT: Well first, I heard that you weren't at Terminal City at the beginning of the siege?

FIXIT: That's true.

BYCROFT: So, why did you come? That seems like an awfully dangerous situation to deliberately walk into, especially with a nine-year old.

FIXIT: Bullet called it irresponsible, and I suppose it was. What you have to consider is, we fled to Canada less than a week after Manticore burnt down. For the better part of a year, we avoided all contact with other transgenics. We were trying to put Manticore behind us.

BYCROFT: And then the siege happened?

FIXIT: Yes, m…Melissa. Ralph wanted to come right away, but we convinced her to wait until the situation stabilized. We wanted to be safe, away from all the danger and controversy. We tried to be inconspicuous.

BYCROFT: That must have been difficult.

FIXIT: We ran into trouble from time to time but, for the most part, we kept to ourselves. We tried, to the best of our ability, to live as a typical family unit.

BYCROFT: Four teenagers and a nine-year old doesn't seem that typical.

FIXIT: Like I said, we could only try. We had IDs made that said we were legally related. We found employment, took care of Bug, and worked hard to blend in.

BYCROFT: You know there's nothing wrong with that, with wanting to be safe?

FIXIT: Of course. Manticore made sure all of us had a healthy sense of self-preservation.

BYCROFT: So why come back?

FIXIT: (_shrugs_) It was a lie. Pretend. Appearances aside, we're not like other people, not normal. Living out there, trying to pass as ordinary, it may have been safer, but it wasn't right.

BYCROFT: If it wasn't the siege, then what provoked your return to Seattle?

FIXIT: It was Agent White's attack on Alec.

BYCROFT: I'm sorry; I have to omit names, for confidentiality. I'm just going to clarify. You came after the transgenics were attacked outside of Terminal City?

FIXIT: Yes, we came after the attack. We were still living in Canada and saw the news reports; it was your broadcast, actually. We left that night.

BYCROFT: But what was it about that attack that compelled you to come?

FIXIT: Like I stated earlier, we considered coming at the start of the siege. After the attack, it seemed inevitable. (_pauses_) You know Bug considers us his family; he looks up to us and follows our example.

BYCROFT: That's common among siblings.

FIXIT: (_nods_) I did some research on the subject. We spent the last year in hiding, not just from those who would hunt us, but from our transgenic nature, as well.

BYCROFT: Like trying to fit a square peg into a round hole.

FIXIT: Something like that. We could have kept on running, kept on pretending. We were taught to assimilate; it was a part of our survival skills at Manticore, but we would never be free to be ourselves. I'm proud of what I am, and I want Bug to grow up proud. Terminal City is where we belong; at least for now.

BYCROFT: That must have been a hard transition; to go from living out in the world as a family unit, to living behind the barricade in Terminal City.

FIXIT: It was a transition, but not as awkward as you would expect. We spent a majority of our lives in close quarters at Manticore. We're accustomed to living under guard, with restrictions on our movement. Like Bug said, in Terminal City we don't have drills and training; we're more or less free to do whatever we want with our time. It's a freedom we never had at Manticore.

BYCROFT: That brings us to another question of mine, about the leadership of Terminal city. From what I've gathered, Manticore had a military based structure of leadership, very organized.

FIXIT: Terminal City is very different, in that respect. We have two Commanders in Chief; our second has been in a coma for the past month. We volunteer for duties, and are assigned based on the skills we picked up at Manticore. No one is forced to take orders.

BYCROFT: From what I've seen, there doesn't appear to be a lack of volunteers.

FIXIT: It's what we've been trained for since birth, and most of us don't mind. It's the choice that makes the difference, the choice to take the orders, and to follow them. It's what we never had at Manticore.

BYCROFT: How would you characterize the leadership in Terminal City?

FIXIT: You mean Max and Mole? They're…very different. Max spends most of her time on the negotiations with the government, while Mole focuses more on the day-to-day running of Terminal City.

BYCROFT: They must meet regularly, to keep each other current?

FIXIT: They do, but they also track everything. Every task is documented. Supplies are organized and inventoried, before being distributed. Every asset is acknowledged. In war, its called "economy of force", it's knowing your resources and utilizing them thoughtfully, for the maximum benefit.

BYCROFT: And they do that?

FIXIT: They're learning. It takes time, but they're learning.

BYCROFT: And are you happy here? In Terminal City?

FIXIT: I think so. (_pauses_) Honestly, Ma'am, I'm not sure I know what that means.

* * *

They entered the conference room quietly. Luke was nervous, wary of whatever discussions had occurred while he was waiting outside. He saw Logan, Agent Gottlieb and Colonel Lydecker speaking together in hushed tones, and decided there were some things he would rather not know.

Max was sitting at the head of the table, silent. She acknowledged him and Dix with a nod, and awkwardly thanked them for coming back. The three men's conversation trailed off, and then the entire table was facing Max.

"Okay," she began, "I know none of us want to be here, but with Alec freaking out, and Melissa Bycroft snooping around, we have to do some damage control before things get further out of hand."

The entire table nodded, Luke included. Mole took it up from there.

"Cale, Gottlieb and Lydecker are looking into the Alec situation, trying to ferret out a source the Colonel thinks can help. Dix, you and me are gonna keep an eye on Missy Bycroft. Max here thinks we can talk her goofy camera man…"

"Sketchy," Max interrupted.

"Yeah, yeah _Sketchy_. Max thinks he'll help us keep things under wraps."

"What about me?" Luke asked, though he had already pictured his assignment quite clearly. Dr. Shankar would undoubtedly need his help keeping an eye on Alec.

"That shipment Max picked up this morning had a good deal of medical supplies bundled up with the toilet paper and bar soap. I need you to do inventory and squirrel that stuff away, before the vultures get at it."

Luke cocked his head in confusion, and tried to tamp down the feeling that he was being sidelined. Inventory was important, after all, just like medical supplies were important. Unfortunately, that didn't make the assignment feel any less like punishment.

"What will Max be doing?"

"I have some business with Clemente to deal with," Max answered. She looked perturbed, but managed to keep the irritation out of her voice. Luke, who was one step from leaping out of his chair to resume his pacing, appreciated her restraint. Still, her reply left him with another question.

"So, who's keeping an eye on Alec?"

"Shankar's got it," Max said, "and Lydecker will be joining her, once he's done getting in touch with his contact."

"Lydecker?" Dix asked, his voice incredulous, "The same Lydecker Alec has already tried to kill twice?"

"Logan and Agent Gottlieb will be with him, along with a few transgenic guards."

Dix's eyes widened, "Who is watching him now?"

Max and Mole exchanged startled looks, and Luke started in his chair when the anomaly reached for his walkie-talkie.

"You don't know?" he asked, "You left Alec alone, after what was most likely a psychotic episode, without a guard?"

"Doctor Shankar was headed down to check on him less than an hour ago," Max said, facing Mole, "She had a radio with her when she left."

Mole's expression turned aghast, as he continued talking into the device, with no reply. Luke watched as he fumbled with the frequencies, and put out a wider broadcast, alerting any transgenic in spitting distance to head to Alec's room. It was several long moments before the walkie-talkie crackled to life.

"Base, this is X6-751."

"Zero?"

"Yes, sir."

"What's your status?"

"I'm at the location. I passed five men, unconscious and disarmed in the corridor, sir."

"And the doctor?"

"The doctor is down, sir," the transgenic replied.

"What's her status, 751?" Mole asked.

The room seemed to take a collective breath at the sound of Zero's muffled movements.

"She has a pulse," he finally answered, "but she needs medical attention."

Lydecker lurched forward in his chair and swatted a hand at the radio. Mole let it fall from his fingertips into the man's waiting grasp.

"And 494?" the Colonel commanded, "What is his status?"

"He's not here sir," Zero replied, "He's gone."

_Sorry for the delay. Thank you for reading, and for those who reviewed. Please continue to do so. I love to hear your feedback, and there were some astute observations made by several reviewers. I will say, for those who asked, that this will definitely not be Alec/Max. In fact, I wouldn't expect to see any pairings here. _

_Thanks again. Let me know what you think!_


	11. Warning Shot

Walking Wounded

**Disclaimer: I claim no rights to Dark Angel, or any of the characters you find here.**

**Spoilers: Set one month after the events of Exit Strategy, which included spoilers for the entire series. **

**Chapter 11: Warning Shot**

494 was lost.

He'd escaped the sickroom his captors had stashed him in, neutralizing the doctor on his way out. Five transgenics had been waiting for him in the outside corridor. He dispatched them with an ease that was almost disappointing. Three of his fellow X5s and two X6s, and each one of them hesitated in their attack, unwilling to subdue him without ample provocation. By the time they got their act together, it'd been too late.

He tried to pinpoint the reason behind their restraint, but no satisfactory explanations came to mind. He shoved aside, with great prejudice, all thoughts of the man called Alec, and what he might have done to earn their gentle treatment. 494's officers at Manticore had taken such joy in stamping the sentimentality out of him, he had a hard time imagining it existing in any transgenic who'd been raised at the compound.

The corridor he found himself in now was quiet and, so far, unmanned. Some unfamiliar recess of his mind recognized the route he was taking, knew clearly the location he sought. The borrowed knowledge- _Alec's_- made him uncomfortable, like he was too big for his own skin. That didn't stop him from taking advantage of it.

So, yes, 494 was lost, though more in the metaphorical sense, than the literal.

He passed three more transgenics before he reached his destination, none of whom put up any notable resistance, just more restraint, more weakness. Lydecker would be ashamed.

_Lydecker._

The name weighed on his sanity, pulled at its edges.

If there was one thing all the parts of his fractured mind could agree on, it was that the Colonel held some measure of the blame for his current condition. The foreign part of him, the part he was coming to recognize as _Alec_, wanted to seek out help. _Alec_ had people he trusted; the lizard-like transhuman for one (_Mole_, his traitorous brain supplied), and someone called Max, for another (though 494 had no memory of anyone by that name). _Alec _had allies and loyalties, a unit, a family.

494, on the other hand, had nothing. No vocation to confine him, no directive to guide him, no allegiances worth honoring. As of today, he decided, he was a free agent. And 494 wanted blood.

He shook off the objections he felt growing in his mind (_Alec's_, they were Alec's objections, not his), and headed into the empty armory.

* * *

The walk back to Alec's room was tense and quiet, save for the intermittent crackling of Mole's radio. Three more transgenic guards had been found, unconscious and disarmed, but there were no further signs of Alec, no clue as to where he was headed. The military efficiency of the takedowns and their incomprehensible, yet practiced, pattern spoke of a trained solider with a plan and destination, one who still maintained the wherewithal to cover his tracks. Not Alec, though. _494_.

"Son of a bitch."

"You want to tell me what's got you wound up there, soldier?" Lydecker asked.

The old Colonel had been keeping step with the anomaly since they left Command, just close enough to listen in on every update. If he hadn't been so worried about finding Alec, Mole would have knocked the man on his ass by now.

He put on his most practiced sneer and looked over, never interrupting their brisk pace.

"Is it that hard to guess?"

"I'd say you're starting to understand the liability 494 represents in his current condition," the Colonel stated matter of factly.

Mole huffed a laugh, "Current condition, huh? Funny you mention that. You may've got an 09er and a couple of ordinaries all bought into that little dog and pony show you put on back there, but this ain't my first rodeo. _494 was a special case_, my scaly green ass."

Lydecker arched an eyebrow in surprise while Luke, who was walking five paces ahead of them, nearly tripped over his own feet.

Mole favored the Colonel with a wry look, "Now you know, and I know, there was something you were lying about back there. I wanna know what. You're gonna tell me."

"Who said I was lying about anything?" the man replied, his face giving away nothing.

"Come on, Colonel. You can't train us in subterfuge, and expect us not to know when you're keeping things from us."

Lydecker let a small smile escape before replying, "I may have left out some irrelevant details."

"Why don't you let me decide what's irrelevant?" Mole asked.

Luke gave up any attempts to mask his eavesdropping, and squeaked in protest. Seemed the transhuman was still determined to protect Alec's privacy.

It was a noble cause, to be sure and, under normal circumstances, Mole'd have been right there behind him, but the X5 (Alec or 494 or whoever the h-e-double-hockey-stick he was nowadays) was rapidly reaching the point of no return. The boy was awake, awake and violent, his mind spun in a thousand different directions. There was no time to namby pamby around- the power of love would not be bringing Alec back from his mental brink. They needed to get to the root of his condition, and the only way that was happening was with Lydecker's information and insight. It was the only way. It was.

"You really want to know every detail of 494's history?" the Colonel asked, "Somehow I doubt he'll thank you for your diligence."

Luke glanced over his shoulder, and fixed the two men with a serious gaze. Mole directed his reply to the anomaly.

"Maybe not," he said, "but it's not like he's givin' us much a choice."

Luke sighed, nodded, and picked up his pace, once again increasing the distance between them.

"So, Colonel," he continued, "Since you're so intent on protecting the boy's privacy, why don't you answer me just one thing?"

"Shoot."

"You say you loaded Alec up with all those fake memories, after Berrisford, to keep him in line. I wanna know why you needed to do that, on top of the damn implant that caused this whole mess in the first place?"

The question had been bothering him since Lydecker finished his debrief. After witnessing the deployment of the implant and its devastating effects on Alec, Mole could appreciate its utility. If Manticore was looking for a leash to rein in their more difficult operatives, the implant fully satisfied that need. The creation of false memories, and the manipulation done by Psy Ops were simply unnecessary. It was excessive, even by Manticore standards.

"Like I said," Lydecker replied, "494 needed a reminder of the possible consequences..."

"Outside of himself," Mole finished the thought, "See Colonel, there's that bullshit I was telling you about."

The Colonel visibly stiffened.

"Do I need to remind you that my cooperation here is voluntary?" he asked, "That there are no answers I'm required to provide, to any of you?"

Mole smiled.

"I'll take that as confirmation."

"Confirmation of what?"

"That you're a manipulative bastard giving us the run around," Mole replied, "Course, that's nothing new."

The Colonel rolled his eyes, "I had hoped we'd gotten past this blatant distrust."

Mole rolled his eyes in return. Run around, indeed.

"Answer the question, then, and we'll see."

"I'm telling you to drop it, solider. It's irrelevant."

"Says you," Mole countered, "Tell me."

The request came out like a command, and then it was Lydecker's turn to sneer.

"No."

"Enough," Luke said quietly. He gestured in front of them, where Zero and two other X6s stood at attention.

"We're here."

* * *

494 left the armory armed to the teeth. No one interrupted him while he was there, or stopped him as he left. He shook his head in amazement at the fact.

He listened carefully to the walkie he'd lifted from the doctor. Instructions and status reports were relayed in plain English, no code, no discretion. It was another sign of how out of practice these transgenics were, with or without Lydecker's overbearing presence.

He wondered how Alec fit in among them.

He had already considered the possibility that his captors weren't lying; that he was experiencing some kind of memory loss or regression. From the stories he'd been told, and the kind and careful way he was being handled, he gathered that Alec was well liked and respected. Alec was a leader here. Alec had escaped the nightmares of Manticore to live in the world, to live among humans. Alec was free.

494 would never be free. Not as long as Lydecker was alive.

He turned his attention back to the radio. They were searching for him. The transhuman Mole was barking out orders, trying to mobilize the transgenics. He warned them to "knock that son of a bitch out first, and ask questions later", and 494 chuckled before he could stop himself. He wondered if he could ever make friends with an anomaly. He wondered how long it had taken Alec to become comfortable in their presence.

The updates over the walkie continued. A reporter was growing impatient, according to someone named Dix. The "norms" were making progress, looking for someone or something, apparently.

Finally, reinforcements arrived at his abandoned room. The transhuman medic was seeing to the doctor (a minor head injury, just as 494 had expected), while the other transhuman (Molemolemole) argued with someone, in between spitting out orders. 494 listened closely, carefully, and tried to identify the other voice. He had his suspicions, but he needed to be sure. He couldn't attack, couldn't risk hurting innocence bystanders (friends, _Alec's _friends), without proof. He wouldn't. He needed to be sure.

The voice came over the radio, clear and unmistakable, despite the bad reception. It belonged to Colonel Lydecker. He was talking to the ordinaries still at Command, but the words meant little to 494. Because now he was sure, and he had plans to make and execute.

Because he needed it to be over. He deserved to be free.

* * *

"Tell me again what happened."

Mole demanded, fighting to keep the bite out of his voice. He was kneeling on the floor in front of Doctor Shankar, hoping the woman had some idea where Alec was headed.

"When I entered the room, he was just lying there," she answered, "He was still and unresponsive at first, and then he…wasn't. I'm sorry, but I don't remember anything else. I don't even know how he got out of the restraints."

"You have quite a bump back here, but that's the extent of things," Luke said, as he finished bandaging the doctor's head, "It looks like he knocked you out with the minimum amount of damage possible. The same goes for the transgenics we found in the corridor."

Mole sighed. Alec tempering his actions, only disabling his supposed enemies, rather than going for the kill, was a good thing. But the motivation behind those actions meant something. Mole could only hope it was more about preserving lives, than some situational advantage. Sadly, it was the most encouraging thing to happen since Alec had woken up that morning.

Leave it to Lydecker to rain on his parade.

"That's a reflection of 494's training; nothing more, nothing less," the Colonel said. "Debilitating enemies without killing them takes a certain amount of restraint, restraint 494 learned at Manticore."

"Thank you, for that depressing analysis of the situation," the doctor replied. Mole snorted, then directed his attention to Lydecker.

"How are Cale and Gottlieb coming along?"

"My contact is en route. Hopefully, they'll be here by late afternoon."

Mole cocked his head.

"And what's with the pronoun game, Colonel?" he asked.

"Simply protocol, son," the man answered, smiling when Mole bristled at the epithet. "Now, I think it's time we send the injured off to the infirmary, don't you?"

Mole nodded reluctantly.

"Wait," the Doctor held out a shaky arm and wobbled on her feet. Her other hand was frantically checking the pockets of her long, white lab coat.

"I had a radio, I took it from the infirmary."

"Zero used it to call in," Mole said, motioning to the X6.

The boy shook his head slowly in response.

"Sir, I already had a walkie when I found the doctor here."

Mole growled in frustration.

"Wasn't enough for us to leave the little son of a bitch without adequate protection, oh no."

"If 494 has a radio in his possession, I think it's safe to say he's been listening to us since we left Command," Lydecker pointed out needlessly.

"Yeah," Mole snorted, "that's safe to say."

"So what do we do now?" Luke asked.

Mole tipped back his head and shut his eyes; willed himself to think. Alec was clever and well trained; he had certainly heard every conversation they'd had over the past half hour. Hell, the boy didn't even need to puzzle out Lydecker's location; they'd done him the favor of spelling it out when they confirmed their arrival at his sick room. Even in his current mental state, he was more than capable of bringing all of Terminal City to its knees. He needed to be found, and quickly. But first, Mole had to try and limit any collateral damage.

"Get the doc and injured to the infirmary," he ordered Zero, "Radio silence."

The kid clipped off a short salute, and immediately started leading the doctor into the hall, to organize his small convoy.

"I'd hold up on that," Lydecker said, "the radio silence, that is."

Mole regarded the man with wide eyes, his surprise evident on his face.

"You said it yourself Colonel, the boy's listening in. We don't really have much a choice here."

The Colonel looked calculating as he nodded his agreement.

"I concur, but there's something we should try first."

"And what's that, exactly?" Mole asked.

The Colonel pointed to the walkie-talkie clipped to Mole's waist.

"Talk to him," he said, "see if you can bring him in."

"You can't possibly think…"

"We need to see how far gone he is. This is how."

Mole's jaw flapped in disbelief. As much as he wanted to believe in Alec, and much as he wanted to protect him, he needed to be realistic. After all, he had an entire city full of transgenics to look out for, Alec aside.

"The boy attacked nine of his own people. I'd say that's pretty far gone."

For a second Lydecker looked taken aback, before pasting on his customary no nonsense expression.

"Humor me."

Mole met the man's glare with one of his own. Though he tolerated the Colonel's presence in Terminal City, and was more than willing to accept his help when necessary, he wouldn't stand being ordered around by the man.

He was just gearing himself up for an impromptu staring contest, when Luke cleared his throat loudly and ruined the moment.

"You can try. It can't hurt, and at least then we'll know."

The Colonel smirked, before schooling his features.

"You need to address him as 494," he explained, "I highly doubt he'll answer to anything else. And try to project an air of authority, if that's even possible."

Mole grumbled unhappily, knowing he had lost, and reached for his radio. He set it for an open call frequency and cleared his throat, tried to forget this may be his only chance to reach the boy.

"494, this is Commanding Officer…uh…Mole. We want to bring you in. I'm requesting you head to Command for debrief. You copy?"

For the next several minutes, there was nothing but dead air. Mole saw Luke twitch nervously beside him, while Lydecker stood still as stone, staring at the two-way. Zero appeared in the doorway, and Mole gave him a silent nod, indicating his group should head out, but neither man made a sound. Then, quite suddenly, a familiar voice called out over the radio waves.

"This is X5-494. I copy."

The voice was colder than Mole was used to hearing it. Colder, even, then it had sounded earlier that afternoon. Mole suppressed a shudder, and spoke into the radio again.

"Will you come in? 494?"

"And you're calling that a request, sir?" the X5 asked after several more seconds of silence.

"Nobody's twisting your arm, boy," Mole replied, and took a breath, "but it's time you come in from the cold."

"And Colonel Lydecker?"

Mole looked to the Colonel, saw him nod in confirmation, "He's here."

"Can he hear me?"

Lydecker stepped forward and plucked the radio from Mole's grasp, "That's an affirmative. This is Colonel Donald Lydecker, soldier."

"Colonel."

Alec's voice, if possible, sounded even colder than it had before.

"What can I do for you, 494?"

"I'm giving you the opportunity to surrender."

"Surrender to whom?" Lydecker asked, obviously baffled by the command. Mole could relate.

"To me," Alec replied, "I want you to surrender to me."

"And if I don't?"

"You can consider this my warning shot."

Mole didn't have time to contemplate the meaning of Alec's words. No sooner had the transgenic finished speaking, than an explosion sounded from the corridor outside. He ran out to investigate, Luke and Lydecker on his heels.

The air was thick with plaster, but there was no fire, and no screaming. They quickly found a large crater in the cement floor where the explosion must have originated from, the walls of the hallway on either side of the site blown apart. On the opposite side of the crater stood Zero, and his group headed to the infirmary. They looked shaken, but uninjured.

"I don't want to hurt them," Alec said over the radio, "but I will."

Mole closed his eyes in disbelief, but the voice kept talking.

"Now, what'll it be, Colonel?"

_Sorry for the gigantic delay. I had a bit of a case of writer's block (for this story, at least). Thank you for your reviews, and continued support. I hope to have more consistent updates from here on out. As always, please review, and feel free to include any questions or suggestions you may have. Thanks!_


	12. Radio Silence

Walking Wounded

**Disclaimer: I claim no rights to Dark Angel, or any of the characters you find here.**

**Spoilers: Set one month after the events of Exit Strategy, which included spoilers for the entire series. **

**Chapter 12: Radio Silence**

MELISSA BYCROFT: Tape 3, Interview 5. I'm speaking with Joshua.

JOSHUA: Hello Melissa.

BYCROFT: Hello Joshua. It's nice to meet you.

JOSHUA: It's nice to meet you.

BYCROFT: You look like you've been busy.

JOSHUA: Always busy in Terminal City. Busy with Alec. Then Gem, at the mess hall, and watching baby Eve.

BYCROFT: Well, I'm glad you're here now.

JOSHUA: Me too.

BYCROFT: Alec told me a lot about you.

JOSHUA: Alec likes to talk. What did he say?

BYCROFT: That you were a good friend, and that you watched out for him.

JOSHUA: He needs a lot of watching out for.

BYCROFT: He did. Does. (_clears throat_) He also told me you are the first transgenic.

JOSHUA: Yes. My Father, Sandeman, he made me, made all of us. But, I was the first.

BYCROFT: So, you were at Manticore from the beginning?

JOSHUA: Yes.

BYCROFT: What was it like?

JOSHUA: Manticore, or Father?

BYCROFT: Either. Both.

JOSHUA: Father was a good man. He wanted to make something new, special. When the government took over, things changed, Father changed.

BYCROFT: How?

JOSHUA: They started training, doing more experiments.

BYCROFT: And Sandeman left Manticore after that?

JOSHUA: Yes. He left.

BYCROFT: That must have been difficult for you.

JOSHUA: Some. I missed him, but there were still people who needed looking after.

BYCROFT: The transhumans.

JOSHUA: Yes. Manticore was always making new things. When they made the X Series, they hid the anomalies away, locked them in the basement. Someone had to watch over them.

BYCROFT: You seem to do a lot of that.

JOSHUA: I like to help. People need help. It's hard, on the outside, finding somewhere to fit. We want to do good things, be a part of the world, but the world isn't ready.

BYCROFT: Bugler, er, Bug said something similar.

JOSHUA: (_laughs_) Bug is smart. He listens to his family, trusts them to tell him the truth, to keep him safe.

BYCROFT: It must be hard for all of you; to trust like that.

JOSHUA: Not really. Hard to trust people like you, Agent Gottlieb, people who are new, and don't always understand. But the transgenics, we want to trust each other. We need to, so we do.

DIX: Excuse me, Miss Bycroft, I'm afraid I need to borrow Joshua. Do you mind? (_motions to tape recorder_)

BYCROFT: Of course. Can we finish this later?

(END TAPE)

* * *

"What's happening?" Sketchy asked.

He was standing outside the blocked off area the transgenics had created for Melissa's interviews. The reporter was still ensconced inside, at Dix's polite request. She may've curbed her questions for now, but her natural curiosity would demand she investigate the situation before long. It was better that Sketchy have some idea about what was happening, before then.

"There's been a problem," Dix said.

"With Alec?"

"Yes, with Alec."

Dix flushed, and drew one hand up, to cup the back of his neck. It was a nervous gesture that only served to amplify the worry already growing in Sketchy's chest.

"It's bad?" he asked.

"That may be putting it lightly."

Sketchy bit his lip.

His mind raced for ways to keep Melissa preoccupied, while his instincts screamed at him to investigate himself. It was becoming a recurring struggle for him, the more time he spent with the transgenics. So much of their world was built on secrets, and the reporter inside him ached desperately for answers. It was his growing loyalty to them, as individuals, and as a whole, that kept him from digging deeper.

Of course, there were some questions he needed answered now.

"This problem with Alec, how dangerous are we talking here?" he asked.

Dix darted his eyes in Melissa's direction. He kneaded his neck some more, before sighing, having come to a decision of some kind.

"He wants Lydecker, and he'll go through anyone who gets in his way."

Sketchy shuddered.

"Go through?"

"He paid a visit to the armory. We're guessing he's fully stocked."

"The armory? How did he get to the armory? Wasn't he supposed to be tied up and chained down?"

"He escaped," Dix said, simply, like the idea of Alec escaping heavy restraints and making his way to their weapons stores was not an incredible feat.

Despite his growing familiarity with the transgenics, there were times when Sketchy forgot just who, and what he was dealing with. Still, he had learned to roll with the punches.

"So, what's the plan?" he asked.

Dix sighed, and motioned to the partition Melissa was still hidden behind. For once, Sketchy knew exactly what was going on.

"Alright, dude," he said, "I'll keep her out of it."

Dix gave him a dubious look.

"Dix, man, I get in a tough spot, I'll yell for ya."

"After all the time you've spent with transgenics, one would think you'd be more fond of stealth," Dix replied.

"Fine, I'll cough, then. That stealthy enough?"

Dix shook his head in exasperation, but he was smiling.

His job done, Sketchy turned around, and headed back to face Melissa.

* * *

The radio chatter had ground to a halt. Finally.

In spite of the inconvenience it created on his end, 494 was pleased to see Lydecker's transgenics were capable of making sound, military decisions when necessary. Not that it would help. His plans were already in motion, contingencies prepared for every possible scenario. Like the small charges he was busy placing in key locations throughout the city.

They weren't large, or powerful enough to cause any serious injury or damage. Only panic. And panic was all he really needed, for what he had planned.

"494."

He spun around quickly, surprised at being caught off guard. Facing him was a boy. He was small, short and thin, with dirty blonde hair, and sharp eyes that tracked 494 warily. He was a transgenic, probably X6.

"State your designation," he demanded.

The X6 didn't reply, just kept a close study. His intensity was unnerving.

494 didn't have time for this. The transgenics would mobilize eventually, and he needed to be ready. This little standoff was eating into his prep time. He decided to try another tack.

"Kid, what's your name?" he asked, the sound of command stripped from his voice.

"Dalton," the kid answered. He lifted one arm, and pointed it in 494's direction. He was armed. It was not a contingency 494 had prepared for.

He kept still, and made no attempt to reach for his weapons. He'd told Lydecker he had no desire to hurt any of the transgenics, if he could help it. He'd meant it.

"You gonna shoot me, Dalton?" he asked.

The X6 shrugged.

"You shot me, first."

He didn't have the time to question that statement. Dalton fired at him before it had a chance to sink in.

The impact of the bullet knocked him unconscious, and he hit the floor.

* * *

"What the hell is going on?"

Sketchy's eyes widened, as he took a hard swat to the shoulder from an angry looking Melissa Bycroft. He wiggled out of her arm's reach, and tried his best to feign innocence.

"Oh, hey! So, how much of that did you hear?"

Melissa snorted at him in disbelief.

"Oh, just 'Alec', 'dangerous' and 'I'll keep her out of it'. Is that about the general gist of it?"

"Melissa…" he said, hands out in supplication.

"Oh stuff it, Theodore. You wanna keep me in the dark, keep me in the dark."

She seemed to deflate a bit, and Sketchy felt a twinge of remorse for shutting her out. Then he remembered, "It's not like I know that much more than you do."

"But you're still my babysitter," she stated, matter-of-factly.

"Uh, more like your handler?"

"Handler," Melissa repeated, narrowing her eyes at him.

Sketchy coughed awkwardly over his shoulder, in the direction of Dix and Command.

"Okay, tour guide? Representative? Supervisor?"

Melissa's eyebrows shot up at that. Sketchy started to gear up for some damage control, when he noticed a small smile pulling at her lips.

"Oh, so you're screwing with me," he said, and smiled back.

It was a nice moment. It didn't last.

"I need to know just how serious this is," she said. Her tone was no-nonsense, stripped of all teasing. Sketchy shifted on his feet.

"Melissa, I just said…"

"My boss is expecting me to check in, Calvin. He's also expecting a good, thorough investigation. I'm not saying I need to know everything, but I don't want to be caught with my pants down, here."

"There's not much for you to know," Dix said, from outside the partition. There was some huffing and shuffling around, and then the partition was moved aside, and he joined them.

"I wish I had more to tell you," the anomaly continued. "For now, I'm asking you to please stay out of it. Let us handle this."

Sketchy nodded along as Dix spoke, and hoped he looked encouraging and supportive. Melissa rolled her eyes at the both of them.

"Like I told Calvin, you wanna keep me in the dark…"

"We're all in the dark right now, Miss Bycroft," Dix interrupted.

Melissa's jaw snapped shut.

"We've gone radio silent," Dix explained, "all I know is the bare bones."

He sighed.

"I tell you this, it's off the record?"

Melissa nodded, but kept quiet.

"Alec's AWOL, he's armed, and he's out for Colonel Lydecker. The situation is unstable, and we could really use your cooperation, here. Mole and Lydecker are headed back now, and we'll know more then."

"But you don't want me asking questions," Melissa said.

"You care about Alec?" Dix asked. "Your questions can wait."

* * *

494 came to on his back. The kid, Dalton, was standing over him. The gun was gone, tucked away out of sight.

He took a quick physical inventory, and determined that the bullet had managed to wing him on the side of his head. Whether that had been Dalton's intention or not, he couldn't tell. He pulled out a loose rag from his bag, and lifted it to stem the bleeding. He moved to stand.

"You shouldn't do that," Dalton said. He sounded nervous, and maybe a little apologetic.

"And why's that?" he asked. The kid winced.

"You've had a lot of head injuries, recently. You need to rest."

494 laughed.

"Is that so? I can't say you shooting me in the head did a lot to help."

"I said why…" the kid trailed off, flustered. Then, 494 remembered what he'd said, right before his gun went off.

"Alec shot you?" he asked.

Dalton jutted out his jaw, looking more stubborn now, than lost.

"You did."

"Look, kid…"

"No, you," Dalton interrupted, and adjusted his stance. The gun was back in his hand. "You're Alec, whether you remember or not."

"Okay," he said, and raised his free hand, appeasing. "Why?"

"I said…"

"I don't remember being Alec, and I don't know why he shot you. So, tell me."

Dalton lowered his head. 494 considered rushing him. He was still well within reach of his own weapons, and could easily disarm him. He was working on a timetable, and he had plans to execute. He didn't have time for this.

But the kid looked tired and upset, like there were things he needed to get off his chest; things about Alec. Maybe his vendetta against Lydecker could wait.

"Tell me," he said again, softer this time.

"It was an accident," Dalton replied, sad and uncertain. 494 cocked his head in confusion. The movement made him dizzy.

"An accident?" he asked.

"Yeah. You were, uh, seeing things. Or, Alec was. Thought I was someone else."

"Someone he wanted to shoot."

Dalton nodded.

"Someone who needed to be shot."

Dalton nodded again.

"His name was Agent White. That's who Alec thought I was."

"A government agent?"

"Among other things," he said, as he finally lowered his gun. "He was in charge of hunting us. He almost killed you."

"Before or after?"

"You shot me?" Dalton laughed. It was an odd, uncomfortable sound. "Would you believe both, sir?"

494 took a deep breath, and closed his eyes.

He hadn't thought a lot about the plight of the Terminal City transgenics; how they got there, what had happened after Manticore's demise. He'd left no room for it, not with all the hate he had for Lydecker, bubbling in his veins. Watching Dalton, he felt as if he had let them down somehow, especially without the memories of what Alec had done in his stead.

"And this guy, White; you said he _was_ in charge?"

"He's dead," Dalton said, "Bullet to the chest."

"I kill him?"

"Cops did."

"Good," he replied, surprised to find he meant it. It was one last enemy for the transgenics, after all.

They observed one another in silence, 494 tending to his newest injury, and Dalton watching each movement. The kid appeared fascinated with the sight of his blood; his eyes fixated on each swipe he took at the still hemorrhaging head wound. After several minutes, he made another attempt to stand. Dalton didn't try to stop him, this time.

"Will you kill him?" he asked, just as 494 found his feet.

"Who?"

Dalton rolled his eyes.

"You mean Lydecker?"

"That's what you're doing, right?" Dalton asked, "Trying to kill Lydecker?"

494 nodded. He watched closely for Dalton's reaction, but his face remained blank.

"You kill him and, after, will you…will Alec come back?"

The question took him off guard, though he obviously should have expected it. Alec was the one people cared about; hell, he'd shot Dalton, and the kid still wanted him back. 494 was just a nuisance and a parasite, causing problems for the other transgenics, and living in another man's body.

494 tamped down on his anger before answering. It wasn't the kid's fault he was so unwanted.

"I don't know. I'm not sure what's happening to me, or what happened to him. I'm sorry."

"I think he will. Come back. Maybe you're already…" Dalton paused, and averted his eyes. "I think he will."

494 didn't know what to say to that.

"So let me help," Dalton said. "I wanna help."

"You want to help kill Lydecker?" 494 asked.

"Yeah."

494 looked the kid over again. He didn't look nervous, not anymore. Dalton was standing perfectly still, his hands held loosely behind his back, spine stiff and chin lifted just so. He looked like the perfect soldier.

"Alright, Dalton. We've got work to do."

_AU: Two questions/inquiries for you guys. First, I am looking to go back and edit "Exit Strategy", and I need a beta. This is solely for grammar correction. Please let me know if you'd be interested, or could recommend someone. Thanks! _

_Second, for the next chapter, there will be some Max POV. My question is, do you guys care about what she's been doing with Clemente? Do you mind if I gloss over all that, and stick to the Alec storyline (how she's dealing with, and reacting to it)? Just curious- it may end up there anyway- but I love to get your feedback as I write. _

_Thanks again for reading and reviewing! It is well appreciated._


	13. In Country

**Walking Wounded**

**Disclaimer: I claim no rights to Dark Angel, or any of the characters you find here.**

**Spoilers: Set one month after the events of Exit Strategy, which included spoilers for the entire series.**

_A/N: I apologize for the incredibly long time between chapters, my hard drive died, taking all my work with it, and I kind of lost my inspiration for a while. Rest assured, I'm in this for the long haul- about 6-7 more chapters, according to my outline- and I hope to have them posted more regularly from here on out. _

**Chapter 13: In Country **

Max was in negotiating hell. While the rest of Terminal City's leadership was tied up with Melissa Bycroft and the Alec situation, she was stuck on back-to-back conference calls with some of the most intolerant, stubborn bureaucrats ever voted into office.

The whole thing was totally jacked up from the start, with a dozen different problems on the table, and only a handful of possible solutions. Normally, Lydecker was braving these talks with her; Old Deck was surprisingly adept at dealing with difficult people, and had no trouble keeping everyone on task. Unfortunately, his dance card was chock-full, for the time being, and Max was left to practically fend for herself. Her only ally was Detective Clemente and, his support, while well appreciated, meant little to the ever-growing list of politicians, military and government officials assigned to solving the "transgenic dilemma".

Issue one was Terminal City, ending the barricade and pulling out the military presence surrounding the city. Next up was the matter of the transgenics' freedoms and civil liberties: defining them, and getting them down in ink and rubber-stamped by Congress, all nice and legal. Course, not everyone believed the transgenics deserved those freedoms in the first place, so there was some convincing that had to happen before anything else. And none of those tasks even touched on what to do with the transgenics not living in Terminal City.

"Well, that was uncomfortable," Clemente said. Their last call of the afternoon had just ended, and Max snorted loudly at the understatement.

"Glad to hear we're on the same page," Clemente laughed.

"You think they'll agree to it?" she asked.

"The extradition? They have yet to provide us with another option."

"Unless you count burying their heads in the sand, and hoping we go away."

"Of course," Clemente laughed for a second time.

After the fire, dozens of transgenics had ended up scattered throughout the country. As long as they flew under the radar, played normal, they were relatively safe. Safe, that is, until White outed Manticore in front of Congress. Rumors started to spread, with fear and paranoia close behind. A countrywide manhunt followed. Transgenics were taken into custody on trumped up charges, while others were lynched in the street, like Biggs. The few arrested for actual crimes were never seen again.

The transgenics needed asylum and safety, and Terminal City was as good as it got. The only thing left was convincing the proper authorities into extraditing the captured and affected transgenics to Seattle. Way Max saw it; it was the least they could do.

"They'll come around," Clemente continued reassuringly, "they know it's in everyone's best interest."

"Cause the transgenics' best interest is their number one priority."

Clemente let the awkward pause settle, then forged ahead.

"And how about Miss Bycroft? Any problems so far?"

Max sighed, thankful for the change in topic.

"None that I know of."

"You don't sound very convinced of that," Clemente said. He sounded sympathetic enough, and Max relaxed, balancing her weight to tip her chair back on two legs.

"Problem's not Melissa Bycroft; I'm just a little preoccupied. Lotsa balls to keep in the air, ya know?"

"Alec?" Clemente asked.

Max's chair fell forward abruptly, taking her with it.

"How did you…Did some bulletin go out I wasn't aware of? Terminal City Daily News?"

"No bulletin. Logan called this morning, wanted to keep me in the loop," Clemente replied.

Max rolled her eyes; thankful he wasn't there to see her expression.

"Right."

"Is there some problem with you and…"

"No problem. Like I said, I'm just preoccupied. And I may be a little on edge," she answered honestly.

"Well, aren't you self aware today?"

"I feel like I'm growing as a person."

Max was just relaxing back into their light banter, when a large crash came from outside, followed by raised voices.

"What was that?" Clemente asked.

Max began running through a list of scenarios in her head, dismayed by the number of possibilities. She realized, to her surprise, that she still had no idea whether or not Mole and Lydecker had managed to find Alec, or just how injured Doctor Shankar, or any of the other transgenics Alec attacked, were.

"Sorry, Detective, sounds like I gotta bounce. Got a few heads need knockin' together."

"Don't hesitate to call me for backup. It's been too long since I've had the chance to do some head knocking."

"I think I can handle it. And if I can't, well, I doubt backup will do much good."

Max hung up, and took a deep breath, before standing and heading for her office door.

* * *

Original Cindy woke to the sounds of muffled voices arguing at the foot of her stretcher. She pried one eye partly open to observe the scene, and quickly identified the speakers as Luke and Doctor Shankar. A small group of transgenics stood in a half moon behind them, at attention, but unmistakably listening in on the quiet conversation. The entire group, Luke and the doctor included, were covered in a fine film of white dust.

"I'm not leaving until this situation is resolved," Doctor Shankar said, her voice just loud enough for Cindy to hear without straining.

"It's not safe," Luke replied.

Doctor Shankar mumbled something in return, too soft for Cindy to hear.

"I know. You've risked a lot, helping us as much as you have, and that means something, it does. It's more than Manticore ever did for us. Something happens to you now, though…" Luke trailed off. He kept his eyes trained on the floor in front of him, looking slightly ashamed of himself.

Cindy waited for some further explanation; her eyes wide open by now to observe the silent standoff, but both parties remained quiet. The other transgenics looked on with anxious expressions, and Cindy's curiosity rose.

Then, Doctor Shankar threw her head back with a huff and started collecting various medical instruments from around the room, and stuffing them into the red bag Cindy recognized as the one she always brought with her into Terminal City. When she turned her back to continue packing, Cindy noticed a thin trail of dried blood on the side of her head, leading to a pair of butterfly bandages laid along her scalp. Cindy drew a sharp, noisy breath, and every one of the room's occupants turned to face her.

"You're up," Luke said, eyes wide and surprised. Cindy smiled up at him, slow and easy.

"Just doing a little eavesdropping to pass the time," she said.

Luke blinked back at her.

"I gotta admit, I'm all matters of curious about just what you all managed to walk into, got you looking like you spent the afternoon rollin' around in bakin' flour."

Doctor Shankar placed her red bag in the arms of one of the hovering transgenics, the same one who'd reported to Max with Dalton that morning, and leaned over Cindy's stretcher.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, as she examined the bump on Cindy's head and checked her pupils for reactions.

"Just fine doc, nice and well rested. Now, you mind filling me in, or I need a barcode or a PhD to get answers around here?"

Doctor Shankar ignored the question, and kept her attention trained on Cindy's injuries.

Cindy rolled her eyes.

"I see how it is, keep Original Cindy all alone in the dark, even when the whole world's fallin' down around our ears."

The doctor continued flittering around her stretcher, while the rest of the group shifted anxiously around the room, reaching for clean towels and rags to wipe off the strange white residue that covered them. Cindy glanced from one transgenic to another, knew if she could just make eye contact with one of them, the whole story would come tumbling out, but the stubborn little bastards kept their gazes downcast.

"The rest did you well; you can leave whenever you feel up to it. Remember to mind your wrist; I'd suggest having it x-rayed when you get back in the city, just in case," Doctor Shankar said.

"Thanks doc," Cindy replied. She threw back the thin sheet that'd been tucked around her, and swung her legs to the side of the bed. Luke jumped at the sudden movement, and rushed to her side.

"Where are you going?" he asked, his voice a higher octave than usual.

"Imma drag my injured behind to Command, see if I can't get some answers outta someone. Unless one of you plan on fillin' me in anytime soon?"

Luke shook his head. The other transgenics followed, eyes still averted. Doctor Shankar watched Cindy, considering, but in the end just continued packing away her supplies.

"Somebody wanna walk me there?" she asked the room at large. "Keep me safe from whatever's out there, dousin' folks in baby powder?"

The messenger from that morning- Dax, she remembered- stepped forward.

He addressed Luke when he spoke.

"I can lead Miss McEachin back to Command. That is, if that's okay, sir?"

Luke sighed and, looking resigned and rather put upon, nodded towards the door.

"Go ahead, Dax. Zero, can you..."

"Yes, sir," another transgenic, who had already finished cleaning himself off, replied.

"Good," Luke said, "The rest of us will clean up here, then lead the doc to the main gates."

"The main gates? Is that safe?"

Cindy pictured the miles of sewer tunnels she had trudged through that morning, all in the name of safety. From the tiny grin Luke threw her, he had no trouble following her train of thought.

"No choice. Mole says the fastest route's the safest."

Cindy nodded like that made a whit of sense, content to wait for her answers, for now. She said her goodbyes to Luke and the transgenics, thanked Doctor Shankar for her help, and headed into the hall, Dax and Zero trailing behind her.

* * *

For the nth time that day, Command was in an uproar. Mole and Lydecker were standing toe-to-toe but, instead of arguing, they were quickly conferring with one another one moment, and barking out orders the next. As Max approached the pair, she noticed Sketchy and Melissa Bycroft being escorted out of Command by no less than ten transgenics, the group surrounding the two humans in a tight formation Max recognized as one commonly used when protecting important Heads of State.

Lydecker called out to her once she got close enough to hear him over the bustle, and motioned for her to head toward the conference room. They arrived at the same time, and Max stepped inside to find Dix, Logan and Agent Gottlieb already waiting.

Gottlieb spoke first.

"We've made contact with your asset, Lydecker. They should be here within the hour."

Mole snorted.

"Great timing, Colonel. They'll get here just in time for the fireworks."

When Lydecker didn't respond, Max took advantage of the ensuing silence.

"Focus, Mole, and report. What's the situation?"

Mole exchanged a cryptic look with Lydecker, who answered for him.

"Our plans have changed. Before we can go forward, 494 needs to be neutralized."

"You couldn't find him?" Logan asked, a hint of incredulity in his voice. Max recognized that tone, it was the one Logan used when things weren't going his way. She was not surprised when Lydecker took a moment to stare him down before replying.

"Obviously not. After he managed to escape his restraints…"

"Again," Mole added.

"Yes _again_, and attack Doctor Shankar and eight of his fellow transgenics, we made contact, briefly. He made some demands but, before we could negotiate, he set off an explosion…"

Agent Gottlieb sprang to his feet, knocking over his chair as he did so.

"What happened? Was anyone injured? Are you sure it was him?"

Max half listened as Mole and Lydecker answered the agent's questions- _it was a small explosion, mostly meant for show. No, no one was injured. Yes, it was definitely Alec_- and used the momentary distraction to temper her reaction. By the time Gottlieb was seated again, she was calm and focused, and knew what she wanted to ask, though she suspected she already knew the answer.

"What kind of demands?"

Mole coughed and looked away, strangely hesitant, "He wants Lydecker. Dead, I imagine, but he's only asked for his surrender."

Max nodded, her suspicions confirmed.

"Okay, so we neutralize him."

Mole and Lydecker returned her nod, their faces grim, looking like the hardened military vets they were. For the first time in recent memory, Max was thankful for that, thankful for Manticore. Without their training, and Lydecker's expertise and contacts, there'd be no stopping Alec, and no helping him. Then again, without Manticore, there wouldn't be a dangerous, renegade Alec to stop.

"Where did Alec get the materials to create this explosion in the first place?" Logan asked.

Mole shrugged.

"My best guess, he threw something together from the stuff he found in Shankar's med bag."

"He threw one together? He can do that?" Gottlieb asked. Lydecker replied.

"He's a highly trained government assassin, son. There aren't many things he hasn't been trained to do. We know he's been to the armory, so we're dealing with more than makeshift weapons, now. Mole tells me, there's also a possibility he has his own, private stockpile somewhere in Terminal City."

Max growled in frustration.

"That's just like Alec; forget who he is, but remember the location of his weapons stash."

"To be safe, I say we oughta consider the possibility," Mole said.

"What are we talking about here? What exactly does Alec have stashed away?" Gottlieb asked.

"And better yet, what can 494 do with it?" Logan added.

_Berrisford._

They were all thinking it. Father and daughter, blown apart, Rachel Berrisford, knocked into a years-long coma by 494, by a bomb 494 had built. Lydecker broke the uneasy silence, though his words were far from reassuring.

"I can't say. But with the right materials I can tell you, with all certainty, 494 is more than capable of taking out all of Terminal City."

* * *

Cindy waited until they were a good 200 feet from the infirmary, before spinning on her escorts, and fixing them with her best no-nonsense glare.

"A'right, which of you two's ready to let Original Cindy into the loop?"

Dax looked to Zero, who merely shook his head at the other boy, and waited patiently for OC to continue walking.

"That's really how you want to play it, huh?"

"We have orders to take you to Command, nothing more, nothing less," Zero replied, determined to stonewall her for the time being. "Mole is there with Max now, and I'm sure one of them will have no trouble filling you in."

Dax nodded his agreement; he looked grateful at having the decision taken out of his hands, and Zero started walking again, confident Cindy would be trailing behind him. But Original Cindy had met her fair share of bullheaded transgenics. She decided to change tactics, from flat out demanding information, to something a bit subtler.

"A'right, I can wait. It's not like anybody's gonna be attacking us between here and Command, right?"

Dax twitched nervously at that, and ran a hand through his hair. Flakes of white powder shook loose, still embedded deep into his hair, despite his best efforts to clean up in the infirmary.

Cindy ignored Dax's discomfort, and the looks of annoyance she caught Zero shooting her, and pressed on.

"So, I've been thinking, that dust you boys were caked in? It looks an awful lot like drywall, like you were…tunneling? Maybe knockin' down some walls in Terminal City?"

Dax tore his hand away abruptly, causing a light shower of powder to fall down around him, and Cindy knew she was on to something.

"So drywall, for sure then, but it was all over ya, like the whole wall just bust open…"

Zero growled in warning, but he was too late; Cindy could see it clearly now. There'd been an explosion of some kind, large enough to blow apart a wall, small enough to cause only minor injuries. The puzzle pieces quickly fell into place; the argument between Doctor Shankar and Dix, the urgency behind her removal from Terminal City.

"Alec did this, didn't he? Knocked the doctor around, started blowing holes in Terminal City? Soldier boy's preparing to attack. He already has."

"We don't know what he's planning," Zero said, his stubborn, Manticore mask wiped away.

He and Dax both looked worried now, and Cindy took a moment to regret pushing them for answers. Despite all of their training, their practiced fronts of fearlessness, they were still young men, younger than her, Max and Alec. There was no sense in stripping away their defenses, especially in a time of crisis.

"What does he want?" she asked, though she could easily guess the answer.

"Lydecker," Dax replied, "he said that if Lydecker would just surrender, he wouldn't hurt anyone else. That he didn't want to hurt anyone else."

"And he has weapons now? Guns and explosives?"

Zero nodded, and Cindy's stomach dropped. Her hand unconsciously went to the back of her head, then dropped to bracelet her injured wrist.

"Okay, so hotboy's on the warpath, fine. But, there's just one of him, right? There's a whole slew of you, all trained and…you can subdue him or catch him or…"

Zero blanched, a clear indicator of his confidence in their ability to stop Alec's imminent rampage. Dax, however, looked distracted, and started jogging ahead of them without a word.

Cindy whispered in Zero's ear, "What's going on?"

He shrugged in response, but picked up his pace. Dax had stopped jogging, and was standing stock-still, his body blocking whomever he'd seen in their path. He was whispering intently, indecipherable at first, though his words became clearer, the closer they got.

He was saying, "What are you doing here? Are you with him? What's happening?"

Cindy looked at Zero, to see if he could make any sense of things, but his face was expressionless, Manticore mask back firmly in place. She approached Dax at last, and peeked around him to find Dalton staring back at her.

"What's going on, boo? You know Gem was…"

Cindy voiced trailed off, as she took in the rest of the scene. Dalton was armed, his gun pointed at Dax's chest. To the left of him, mounted on the wall, was what looked like a glob of wires and putty.

"You need to stand down, soldier," Zero said, with as much authority as he could muster. "Stand down, and come with us to Command, before more people get hurt."

Dalton shook his head. There was a wildness in his eyes Cindy recognized from the infirmary that morning, when he was yelling at Max.

"Don't think you're in any position to be giving orders, Zero."

He kept his weapon trained on Dax, and turned partially to fuss with the charge on the wall. Once he'd finished his tinkering, he reached into his pocket for a handful of zip-ties.

"Put these on."

Zero and Dax visibly bristled, but did as they were told. Original Cindy froze, dumbfounded, with her hands at her sides, still not quite clear at what was happening. A look of apprehension flew across Dalton's face, so quick Cindy nearly missed it, before he aimed his gun away from Dax, and straight at Cindy's head.

"Put this on," he said again, waving the remaining zip-tie in front of her.

She did. Then, she fell in behind Zero and Dax, as Dalton led them down the hall at gunpoint, in the opposite direction of Command.


	14. Excessive Ordnance

**Walking Wounded**

**Disclaimer: I claim no rights to Dark Angel, or any of the characters you find here.**

**Spoilers: Set one month after the events of Exit Strategy, which included spoilers for the entire series.**

_A/N: Sorry, once again, for the delay. I can assure you, I will be completing this fic, though I can't say how long it will take me. Thanks to all of you who are still reading._

**Chapter 14: Excessive Ordnance**

They were not a part of the plan.

Plan A, that is, the first plan, the best plan. Plan A meant doing his job neatly and quietly, and going undetected. Plan A meant perfection, no deviations, no screw-ups, and absolutely _no hostages._ Hostages were not a part of the plan.

Luckily, Alec had been doing this a lot longer than Dalton, whose very genetics, combined with his years at Manticore, made him far better at following orders, than thinking on his feet. Alec had expected that. Pale and focused, with smatterings of blood from Dalton's bullet still smeared across his face, he had calmly explained exactly what Dalton needed to do, should Plan A fail.

"_Always have a contingency plan, kid. Nothing's foolproof- your back ups should have back ups."_

The back up for Plan A (Plan B, as it so happened) allowed for hostages. Plan B meant zip-ties in his pockets and a secured room ready for use; close by, yet safe outside the various blast radii of the explosives they were planting. Plan B meant acting the soldier, disciplined and distant, unflinching and full of conviction, with no room to be swayed.

It was a role Dalton had been trained for, a role he was accustomed to. It allowed him to shed all the uncertainty and anxiety he'd been feeling since being shot, and to find comfort in the routine.

So, when Original Cindy, Zero and Dax stumbled across him setting explosives in the hall leading to Command, Dalton knew just what to do.

* * *

"Where you takin' us, Dalton?" Original Cindy asked.

She sounded nervous and maybe a little confused, but not frightened. He needed her frightened. It was unfortunate, yet necessary. He'd already pointed a gun at OC's head and made her restrain herself, he wasn't sure what else he could do that would make her take him seriously, make her stop asking questions.

"_They have to believe you'll go through with whatever you threaten, or there's no reason for them to cooperate. Idle threats won't cut it."_

Dalton had set down this path and he needed to see it through. If he could shoot Alec and plant explosives around Terminal City, he could threaten OC, Dax and Zero. He was capable and in control, a soldier with a purpose. He could do this.

"Where are you taking us?"

It was Zero asking this time; voice calm and serious.

"Do you even know what you're doing, or are you just trying to scare us?" he continued, in a slightly sharper tone.

OC was a civilian, sentimental and naïve, but Zero was a soldier. Dalton knew just how to handle him.

"You know, Ralph told me the story once, about how you got your name. Said you were mouthing off to Max."

Dalton kept his voice light and pleasant, like they were just taking a walk, like he wasn't holding anyone at gunpoint.

"You'd think, after a year out there in the world, you'd have learned your lesson. About mouthing off, that is."

"_Don't let 'em rev you up; they get you upset, get you angry? Then you get sloppy, and they've got a window to make their move. You want them intimidated."_

"So, you really want to know where I'm taking you?" Dalton asked, punctuating his question with a poke to Zero's back with the muzzle of his gun.

Zero and Original Cindy both stayed their reactions, but Dax nodded fervently.

"I want to know. Are you going to kill us? What's this about?" he asked.

Dalton cocked his head and tried to look calculating. Dax was his friend, closer to him than both OC and Zero, and Dalton had a harder time projecting the same confidence and menace on him. He needed to maintain control here; it was just a question of how.

"_You gotta keep the upper hand. Don't offer up too much information, or answer too many questions. Keep it simple; give directions and threaten them when necessary, no more or less."_

"We don't want to kill anyone," he found himself saying, "but we will, if we have to."

"You mean you and Alec, right? You _are_ working with Alec?" Dax asked.

Dalton shrugged, tried for nonchalance.

"I…that's not important."

"It is," Zero said carefully, like Dalton was some wild animal that needed subdued. "This isn't you. You don't hurt people like this, and if Alec is making you do this…"

Dalton swung his gun in Zero's direction, but that didn't stop the flow of words.

"…then Alec isn't acting like himself, either. Maybe you both need some help, before this gets anymore out of hand."

"_They know you, and they'll try to use it against you. Don't let them. Stay focused; this isn't personal, and no one needs to get hurt. Well, no one but Lydecker. Once he's gone, this is over. They're soldiers, they'll understand."_

"You don't understand. Not yet, anyway."

Dalton led the group down a short hallway just off the main corridor, to a small room with a large metal door. He ushered them inside.

"But you will. I promise, you will," Dalton said with conviction. He took one last look at the three of them, and then eased the door shut and locked it from the outside.

* * *

There was no time.

Alec's little explosion had been a clever move, a painless yet powerful opening gambit. It gave him control and left them with few choices, but to comply with his demands. No more waiting it out, no more attempts to draw 494 out of Alec, like pulling poison from a wound. Alec had closed off all their options, and left them no time to create new ones.

Mole liked options.

"We need to find him."

Mole rolled his eyes. Since Lydecker had thrown out his worse case scenario- _494 is more than capable of taking out all of Terminal City_- discussions of their next move had ground to a halt. Much as he appreciated this attempt to get them back on track, Mole'd been hoping for a bit more from Max, than simply restating the obvious. Still, he took in the look on her stubborn face, brimming with conviction, and decided to help things along.

"Any idea where we should start?" he asked, looking from Max to Lydecker, and back again.

Max shook her head.

"If it was Alec, maybe, but we're not dealing with Alec here, not really."

Without a cigar to gnaw on, Mole bit down on the inside of his cheek to keep from snapping. He instantly regretted it when he bit too hard, and a warm rush of blood invaded his mouth. He muttered a curse, and spat into a nearby bin.

"So, 494. Come on, Colonel, what would 494 be up to? Where would he go?"

"He called the first explosion a warning. He's giving us time to think through his proposal."

Mole snorted.

"Yeah, the one that ends with us handing you over to him for certain death. Where are you going with this?"

Lydecker narrowed his eyes briefly in Mole's direction, yet otherwise ignored the interruption and barreled ahead.

"He would use this time wisely. He's not sitting on his hands, waiting for us to make a decision. 494 is a soldier, and that little firecracker was the least of his plans."

* * *

They were almost to the front gates of Terminal City when the explosions started. It'd been a long time since Luke had been that close to active munitions detonating, and he'd forgotten how loud and startling they could be.

"We need to go back," Doctor Shankar said, already turning on her heel. Luke reached for her elbow and spun her back around.

"There could be injured people back there, and we need to go back. I can help," she said, shaking her arm out of Luke's grasp.

"You go back, you could be one of them."

Luke raised a hand, when it seemed like the doctor would try and speak over him.

"Maybe you can help, but if something happens to an ordinary behind Terminal City's walls, smack in the middle of negotiations…" he trailed off, hoping she would get his point.

He was beyond relieved when she nodded sullenly, and motioned for them to continue walking towards the gates.

"I still want to help," she said, "I wish there was more I could do."

Luke smiled grimly.

"Just don't die."

Another explosion punctuated his statement, so close this time that the doctor threw her arms up and over her head, presumably to protect herself from debris. The transgenics, Luke included, knew better. The blasts were centered on Command, in the opposite direction of where they were headed. They were safe, relatively speaking.

Luke turned to offer Doctor Shankar this small bit of reassurance, and found her staring straight ahead, squinting. Alec was walking straight for them, his gun raised to hip level and aimed ahead, shifting targets to rest on each of them in turn.

"Alec!" Doctor Shankar called out, though he was now less than two meters away.

"Not quite Doc, though I have to admit, he's growing on me," Alec replied.

If a smile of any size accompanied that statement, it was lost on Luke. He was too busy watching Alec's gun, trying to predict the trajectory a bullet would take, should Alec choose to shoot.

The silence stretched out for a few moments, interrupted only by the sound of fire coming from Command. Alec broke it.

"How's your head?"

"It's fine. You're bleeding," Doctor Shankar said in response.

Luke dragged his eyes up from Alec's weapon to take in the transgenic's appearance, fully visible despite the storm darkened skies. He looked terrible. His wrists were visibly reddened and lacerated from the restraints he'd escaped in his sickroom, and a large bruise crept down from the top of his head, a souvenir from where Joshua had knocked him unconscious that morning. Blood caked the other side of his face, from the cut Alec had received across his cheek, also that morning, and another, newer wound that was still oozing.

"Yeah, the kid shot me. Dalton. It's just a graze."

"Where is he? Where's Dalton now?" Luke asked, ignoring Alec's casual tone. He moved forward, into Alec's space.

"He's fine," Alec replied, side stepping the question, "busy."

Another explosion went off, and Luke noticed the transgenics behind him involuntarily clutching their weapons at the sound. Alec noticed, too.

"You, Luke? I need you to do something for me," he said, one eye on Luke, the other on the transgenic guards.

"What?"

Alec pointed to Doctor Shankar.

"You were taking her out of Terminal City, right? She needs to go now, the sooner the better."

"Why? What are you planning?" Luke asked.

Doctor Shankar had edged closer to hear their conversation, and was watching Alec just as intently as Luke was. Alec's gaze bounced between them, before settling on Luke.

"Planning part's over, we've moved on to the execution portion of our program. I think it'd be better for everyone if the doctor here were far away from Terminal City."

"So you're just…letting us go? Why?" Luke asked.

"I'm letting _her_ go. As for why, well, the gate's right here, it's not even out of my way. You said it yourself, something happens to a human behind the city gates and it's trouble for all of us. Would you feel better if I ordered you at gunpoint?"

Alec lifted his gun. Luke was close enough to him now that, with Alec's arm fully extended, the muzzle touched his chest.

Luke stepped back and Alec nodded in approval, and then turned to Doctor Shankar.

"Go ahead, Doc."

The doctor walked to the main gate alone without argument. She glanced back just once, gave Alec an appraising look and Luke an encouraging one, and slipped out of Terminal City.

"Now what?" Luke asked, more out of curiosity, than fear.

Alec looked away from the gate and back toward his remaining hostages, the ghost of a smile touching his lips. He schooled his expression quickly, though not enough to dim the lightness and warmth growing in his eyes. He was starting to look and act more like _Alec_ again. His tone of voice, cocky and flippant, with a hint of authority, only underscored the fact.

"Now, Luke, we have a little something I like to call 'Plan B'."

Alec lowered his gun and slowly stepped forward. Of course the transgenic guards, so quiet up to this point, chose this moment to draw their weapons.

They were both young X6s, scared and inexperienced. Alec seemed to understand; he kept his gun lowered and raised his free hand to eye level. Then the next explosion went off, accompanied by a loud clap of thunder. One of them must have panicked. Luke hoped it was panic, or even fear that triggered what happened next.

Because that's when the shooting started.

* * *

"Did you hear that?"

The sound of gunfire's unmistakable to any transgenic, one of the consequences of growing up on a military compound. Mole wanted to believe that his hearing was playing tricks on him. With all that was happening in Command, gunfire was the last thing any of them needed. As long as there were damages to report, a threat to assess, and plans to enact, he was perfectly happy to ignore the prickling feeling along with spine.

Apparently, Dix had missed that memo. He asked again, prodding at Mole's side for emphasis.

"Another explosion?" Mole asked, hopeful. He could be wrong. He hoped he was.

"No. No, that was gunfire." Dix replied.

Lydecker appeared beside him like a damn boogeyman, Max and the two ordinaries along with him.

"Point of origin?" he asked.

Mole curled his lip, annoyed at being ordered around, but tried to concentrate anyway, and watched as Max and Dix did the same, working to ferret out a direction for the shooting under the explosions and thunder. Max caught on first.

"The front gates," she said.

There was no mistaking her certainty, and Mole didn't bother straining his ears to try and confirm what she'd heard. He pulled out his walkie- _screw radio silence_- and set it for the open frequency Luke had agreed to use in case of an emergency. For several long moments there was nothing but static. Then fragments of a voice stuttered out over the bad connection. It was Luke.

"Command…Luke…I need back up…front gate…Alec…"

"Luke, this is Command, you copy? Luke? This is Mole, do you copy?"

More silence and static followed, peppered with erratic bursts of gunfire, much closer and clearer than what they could hear from Command. Mole listened closely for a reply, and then repeated his order again. The gunfire picked up and a few raised, yet indistinct voices called out. Mole asked again.

"Do you copy?"

"I copy."

The voice that responded wasn't Luke, but it didn't sound much like 494, either.

"Alec?"

The background was eerily quiet now, the shooting stopped. Mole tried to ignore what that might mean, tried to concentrate on Alec.

"Is he there?" Alec asked. He sounded winded, tired.

Mole didn't bother playing dumb. He knew just whom Alec was asking about.

"Yes."

"Remember, I didn't want this. I didn't want…I had no choice." Alec said. He started to wheeze, the more he spoke; damn kid probably had a punctured lung, maybe a hole from a bullet, punched through his chest.

"Alec? Alec!"

Mole raised his voice to gather the boy's attention, only hoped he could calm him down and get him focused.

"Let me talk to Luke, Alec. I need to know how many are injured, so we can get you help."

Alec laughed.

"Well, I'm shot. That's two for today."

The wheezing was growing worse.

"Alec! Where's Luke?" Mole asked.

Alec coughed wetly into the walkie. Mole started to feel desperate and anxious, though he couldn't say why. He asked about Luke again.

"The medic anomaly? He's dead. They're all dead."

Max caught the walkie just as it came tumbling from his hands. Mole watched her speak into it, shock and confusion clouding his mind.

"Alec, what happened? You have to tell us what happened."

Alec coughed again, pain evident in the sound. Mole's momentary bewilderment lifted, replaced by a burning anger. He briefly, viciously reveled in the noise of Alec's pain, because if it were true, if they were dead, there would be so much more pain left for him, so much pain Mole ached to dole out.

Then Alec began talking again and the moment was over, though the anger stayed close to the surface.

"I told you this would happen. I didn't want to hurt anyone, but I told you I would."

"Alec." Max whispered the boy's name. Her eyes were starting to glaze over, the shock creeping in. Alec's uneasy breath rattled over the radio, but his voice when he spoke was remarkably clear.

"No more stalling. No more."


	15. Pyrrhic Victory, Part 1

**Walking Wounded**

**Disclaimer: I claim no rights to Dark Angel, or any of the characters you find here.**

**Spoilers: Set one month after the events of Exit Strategy, which included spoilers for the entire series.**

_A/N: Sorry for such a short and ridiculously late update- I've been writing and rewriting this chapter for months, and I finally decided to scrap most of what I had, save the three measly paragraphs below. Still, I wanted to post what I had, and let those of you still reading this thing know that I'm still writing it. Thanks for your patience, and for reading!_

**Chapter 15: Pyrrhic victory, Part 1 **

Transgenics liked to gossip; they were a lot like ordinaries in that way. For the past month, most of Terminal City's gossip had centered on X5-494. Stories ranged from entertaining to heart breaking, far-fetched to outright, over exaggerated drivel. They painted 494 as a trickster, a renegade, a loyal soldier betrayed by his own command, a loyal soldier who betrayed his command (for love, for money, for loyalty to his fellow soldiers, for personal outrage at Manticore's principles, or for no real reason at all).

Dix wasn't fond of hearsay. He always took rumors with a grain of salt, and never sought them out. Nonetheless, no amount of avoidance could have prevented these stories of 494 from reaching his ears. After the first few weeks, he even stopped chastising every transgenic who came within hearing distance, spouting whatever new anecdote the gossip mill had dredged up. He learned to file the incidents away to examine at a later time, when he had the energy and inclination to separate fact from fiction.

While no substantial amount of time ever materialized- they were in the middle of a siege, after all- he had managed to squirrel away a few minutes here and there, and discovered a few commonalities in the stories themselves. 494 was competent and a good tactician, an excellent marksman, but easily distracted when it came to hand-to-hand. He was dangerous, but not ruthless, and saw no shame in retreating and regrouping. He had killed, but wasn't a killer. He'd been punished for refusing to kill, sent to the basement, tortured and experimented on. He wasn't a killer.

It was a bluff. A well played, well executed, entirely believable bluff. It had to be. Dozens of stories couldn't be wrong.


End file.
